


Of Ripened Desire

by minniegguk



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Closeted Character, Coming of Age, Developing Friendships, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inspired by Call Me By Your Name, Italy, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Smut, Summer Love, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2020-12-13 23:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 73,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21005834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minniegguk/pseuds/minniegguk
Summary: The city of Verona carries a sweet aroma of passion - Seungkwan can feel it every year he visits his family’s summerhouse. During the summer of ‘84 in particular, Seungkwan experiences ripe emotions for an American boy with light skin and warm eyes. Every moment is a treasure when there is a chance they may never see each other again, after the stirring summer weeks dwindle slowly to an end.





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm finally getting another fic out! ...This one is really special to me, so it's taken some time (I started planning this last summer!!). Right now I'll post the prologue, and I hope you'll stay patient whilst I clean up the chapters before I get to posting those!
> 
> For now, I hope the moodboard and playlist I made will give you an idea of what to expect <3
> 
> [moodboard](https://weheartit.com/peachkwan/collections/154152605-)  
[playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3sfWyg0duyDS4qJCKMvLbs?si=eGkApsQVQ_6-cvr6a5_Ukg)
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/peachkwan1)
> 
> Disclaimer: All of my knowledge of Italy's geography is down to my own research, so I apologise for any mistakes on that!

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. –  _ 1 Corinthians 13:47 _

**~**


	2. Il Americano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to share this :)
> 
> [moodboard](https://weheartit.com/peachkwan/collections/154152605-)  
[playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3sfWyg0duyDS4qJCKMvLbs?si=eGkApsQVQ_6-cvr6a5_Ukg)  
[twitter!](https://twitter.com/peachkwan1)

_ Summer of 1984, Verona, Italy _

He could recall it better than anything else.

It was nothing like the summers before, or the ones to follow. It was nothing but a fanciful teenage delusion of wheatfields in the balmy countryside, and orange trees, willow trees, apricot trees; warm mornings, hot afternoons, and cool evenings. Dinner guests, red wine, soft bread, light eats; sleeping lake, weeping leaves, smiling youth.

Memories like hazy, half-formed dreams, wispy clouds and angel songs. Then came the long days perfumed with obsession and adoration—the shared glances, unspoken love, ticking clock, skin on skin, warm breath on skin, lips on skin, ticking clock. Auburn hair, beige eyes, _please don’t go._ _Don’t watch the sunset; then the day is gone, and we are gone, you are gone. Don’t leave._

Verona held an eminent reputation for tragic romance and the time-worn phrase _ ‘star-crossed lovers’ _ . For him, it was a city of bittersweet nostalgia. And even now, he could hear that phrase. _ His _ phrase, _ ‘Il Americano’ _ as it was thrown around here and there, and everywhere he went.

Home in Italy was a magnificent old summerhouse on the green outskirts of town, where Seungkwan’s parents had honeymooned, and inherited the villa for themselves after falling in love with it. It used to belong to her mother - Seungkwan’s grandmother. And it became an annual vacation every single summer. Even when father left and mother was sad for the months that followed.

Back to the summerhouse in the suburbs, just outside the heart of the beating city, the lively town centre. The house was dated but its age was what made it so enchanting. Ample rooms, arching ceilings, mosaic flooring, the backyard that stretched all the way back, back, back!

Seungkwan had known this place his whole life. He’d always known the fading wood of the finely detailed headboards, the flow of the sheer curtains from the breeze through the always-open windows. The fresh linen tablecloths, the sunlight that bounced off the glass of the chandelier. It was all his summer norm.

It was Verona where he learned about the world beyond Jeju island, where he made friends who shared things that his Jeju friends wouldn't know of. Where he drew inspiration and curiosity, and made beautiful discoveries.

He owed a lot to Verona.

After another dull winter and a bland spring, he was counting on this summer to bring something _ invigorating _. And Verona never let him down.

Eighteen. Seungkwan was eighteen-years-old when he started to appreciate things that he’d usually pass by. He’d begun to value the birds and their songs, and the sunny days back home in Jeju. The way the warm grass felt beneath the bare soles of his feet. Sojeong’s kind words and Jinseol’s motherly habits, and his mother’s habit to pick out Seungkwan’s habits. Especially his proneness to drop peach pits wherever he was, after biting into a fresh peach.

He ate this freshly picked peach as if it was the last one he’d ever have here, and dropped the stone into the soil of a plant pot - that was good enough, right?

His teeth sunk into the fleshy fruit, his fingertips amused by the outer fuzzy texture. He bit off a chunk and used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and chin where the juices had spilled. Those large peaches came with a sugary fragrance and a flavour that kissed his tongue. While Jeju had the best tangerines, Verona had superb peaches - especially the ones that were grown in his family’s orchard. Those peaches, they were always picked from the branches in perfect timing with delicate caution. He was eager to help his mother in picking them this summer.

After he took another bite from the peach, he left it between his lips, keeping it in place with his teeth and the strength of his jaw. His sunglasses had slid down the bridge of his nose when he leaned into the open car boot. Those were his favourite glasses. Ray-Bans with a slim golden frame and lenses washed a soft pink shade, transforming his vision rose-tinted.

Seungkwan lifted his glasses to rest them on top of his head, and took the last of the luggage - an old, floral duffle bag that most likely belonged to his mother. He and his family had only just arrived from the Jeju flight, and so Greta had told him, quite sternly, not to push himself to unload the car, but he insisted.

Greta, the housekeeper, was more like a member of the family rather than a maid. She was ageing, but that didn’t stop her from never sitting down. Seungkwan was always thankful for her ever since he was young; she took care of him like a second mother. Such a benevolent woman, soft-spoken and always concerned about Seungkwan’s whereabouts.

Across the gravelled floor, he hastened up to the house, heels scuffing on the small stones. His body leaned to the side in such an uncomfortable way, due to the weight of the large satchel bag. It swung in both hands that were rested on his rolling hip. The distance from the parked car to the front door wasn’t far at all, which was relieving.

As an ache took over his arms, he hurried to push himself to the open doors. Those two tall, old doors were always left open; the summerhouse was secluded enough for it to be safe. _ It welcomes the angels. _ That’s what his mother always said to him and his sisters. She’d sound crazy to anybody but her children; they understood her. Their mother wasn’t crazy at all - she just had a different perspective.

The mural was still on the ceiling of the wide hallway when Seungkwan stepped inside. He didn’t know why he’d always expected it to vanish one day, perhaps because it looked too enchanting to belong in this world. It was always the first thing that stunned any houseguests when they visited: the ceiling was a pale blue, clouded sky with flowers and cherubs among the clouds; doves and other birds too. The painting was chipped and fading by now, but it still captivated. It didn’t have to be as vibrant as it once was to capture someone’s emotion.

“_ Grazie _,” Greta uttered and took the bag from him, to move it to his mother’s bedroom. She moved swiftly up the staircase, like she had many other jobs to do around the house today. She no doubt did, now that Seungkwan’s family had just returned.

He took the peach out of his mouth and bit into it again. As he chewed, his head lolled back to lose himself in the sight of the mural.

He’d stood there for a while until he heard his mother call, “Is that everything now?” She made her way down the hallway, colourful sundress swaying, airy and light. Seungkwan nodded and she rose to her tip-toes to rest her manicured hands on his puffy cheeks, then kissed his forehead through his blonde hair. “You’re good.” She smiled. “Better than those two.” Then thumbed over her shoulder, in the direction of the living room where the laughter of Seungkwan’s sisters came from.

He begged to differ with his mother’s statement, because his sisters were good, they were just as obedient as he.

“What time did Mingyu say he was coming over?” his mother asked, glancing down to the watch on her wrist.

“Around four; he wanted us to settle back into things first,” Seungkwan recalled from the phone call he’d had with Mingyu before leaving for Jeju airport. It was the first time he’d heard Mingyu’s voice in two years, and the phone static didn’t do his soothing tone any justice.

“Ah, he’s such a sweetheart,” his mother sighed.

Seungkwan was eleven-years-old, when he met Mingyu here. In all honesty, he hadn’t met anyone like Mingyu in all of his eleven years of living, before bumping into the willowy boy in Piazza delle Erbe - the old town plaza of quaint cafes and markets. As it just so happened, Mingyu’s parents had a farmhouse not far from Seungkwan, and they partly shared the farmland with the owner, Florenzo. Their routine was similar to Seungkwan’s, vacationing to Verona every summer - which thrilled eleven-year-old Seungkwan because it meant he had a vacation buddy!

Oh, whimsical Mingyu, he was striking in both looks and charisma. Like an excitable Golden Retriever puppy who wasn’t used to walking on his oversized paws. Klutzy, charming, and giddy. They’d spend most summer days together - running around the farm, swimming at the lake, hide and seek at the villa (because there were several more hiding spots in Seungkwan’s house than Mingyu’s).

But by the end of summer, Mingyu would always return home a little earlier than Seungkwan, all the way back to Anyang-si, where they wouldn’t see each other again till next summer.

By the time Seungkwan was sixteen, Mingyu was eighteen and spending his final summer in Verona before moving to America for college. He knew Mingyu wouldn’t take up the next few annual visits because he’d be too busy studying in the States, and he accepted that. Besides, by then, Seungkwan had a handful of friends in Italy. (Which helped improve his Italian since he couldn’t cheat and speak Korean as he did with Mingyu.)

Although this year, Mingyu had enough money, and he’d graduated. So he was going to spend the summer here, without his busy parents coming along.

Seungkwan waited for Mingyu. He spent the time helping his mother and Greta out in the kitchen - well, they let him set the table at least. His mother always held an evening dinner on the first night back in Italy. She usually invited friends who lived here, or writers and poets. She was a writer herself - a few of her poetry books had been published and were fairly successful.

The dinner table was set up outside beneath the trees where warm string lights were woven through the branches and leaves. It was a decent-sized table, holding eight seats. Seungkwan tried his very best to keep the silverware tidy, using the utmost delicate touch. As he was smoothing out the white tablecloth, the trees above rustled in the gentle breeze, and it soothed him.

“Did Greta put you up to this?” Jinseol’s voice chirped from behind him. He felt the table shift a little as she leaned her weight on the corner.

Seungkwan shook his head. “No. I’m just bored waiting around.” He rubbed his fingertips over the texture of the cloth. 

“You forgot to put a fork down here,” Jinseol remarked. Seungkwan looked over his shoulder to see her hand beside the space where a fork should be. That would be why he had an extra fork in his hand. Jinseol was always there to pick up on his faults - as the eldest, it was almost her duty; it wasn’t like Sojeong was going to do that. It was why if he was given work from his homeschool teacher, he’d sit down with Jinseol when he struggled. Jinseol wasn’t afraid to tell him when he was wrong.

“Do you think he’ll have changed?” he asked, sliding onto the edge of the table to sit beside his sister. He kept his eyes on his shoes.

“Who?”

“Mingyu hyung.”

“Hm,” Jinseol let out a short laugh at the mention of Mingyu, and kicked her foot in the dirt. “Mingyu never changes. He just gets taller.”

Seungkwan would’ve usually agreed to that, but this time it was different. Mingyu was coming from New York, not Anyang-si, and it’d been _ two _ years, not _ one _. A lot could’ve happened in two years.

“What are you expecting? You think America would’ve changed him?” Jinseol questioned. Truthfully, Seungkwan didn’t know what he was expecting from Mingyu. Perhaps he was feeling a twinge of worry - worry that now Mingyu was twenty, his fun-loving charm would’ve vanished with maturity. And that was always Seungkwan’s favourite thing about Mingyu, his puppy energy.

He carried out a quiet sigh. “...I guess I’m just nervous.”

Jinseol gently nudged his side with her elbow. “It’s just the same old Mingyu! You need to stop overthinking - you know what mother says: you need only to be still.” She hopped off the table, somehow without shifting the tablecloth.

“Mother doesn’t say that. That’s from Moses. Exodus,” Seungkwan retorted to the back of his sister who stepped into the kitchen, leaving him with the dimming sky and rustling leaves. He sat for a while, toying with his sunglasses that were hanging from the neckline of his shirt.

Until Mingyu arrived.

Jinseol was right - like always - because Mingyu was still the same charming boy that Seungkwan had said goodbye to. The only change that Seungkwan had noticed was his appearance. Mingyu was, somehow, slightly taller, and there was more bulk to his build. He’d grown into his facial features, making him even more handsome, and his hair was a light, caramel brown and longer - wavy bangs swept over his brow bone to expose his forehead. A much more mature look for him.

All nerves had vanished when Seungkwan had opened the door to him - he leapt into his hyung’s arms, embracing that warmth he’d always had. Oh, how Seungkwan had missed Mingyu’s arms wrapped around him.

“When did you go blonde?!” Mingyu asked, clearly shocked by the colour of Seungkwan’s hair. He played with the fluffy locks with a pleasingly shocked look on his face.

“A while ago, actually.” Seungkwan’s eyes caught a glint on the side Mingyu’s nose. He reached up to poke the small, silver ring that was around his left nostril. “And when did you get this, huh?!” he asked, purposefully copying Mingyu’s tone. Mingyu dipped his head and chuckled, seeming a little flustered. “Did it hurt? Did you cry?” Seungkwan darted out questions. He was just so glad to see Mingyu again.

“There _ were _tears in your eyes, Mingyu. You can’t deny that,” a low, unfamiliar voice said from beside Mingyu. Seungkwan must’ve been so taken away by the excitement that he hadn’t noticed the other two strangers that Mingyu had brought along with him.

He was introduced to a boy with a polite smile and doe eyes, Jisoo; and the other seemed more reserved, Wonwoo. Seungkwan bowed kindly, a little intimidated by two taller boys from America, despite their welcoming greetings.

After Mingyu had said hello to Seungkwan’s mother and sisters, he asked if Seungkwan wanted to go into town and catch up. Jisoo and Wonwoo went back to the farmhouse, and Seungkwan walked to town with Mingyu, just like old times. He had a plethora of questions that buzzed in his head for his hyung, but then he’d leave no room for Mingyu to ask questions. But what was there for Mingyu to ask Seungkwan? His life hadn’t changed much at all. Maybe he could tell Mingyu about all of the boyfriends that Sojeong had gone through by now. No, that would take too long...

“So, who are your friends?” he asked instead.

“Jisoo and Wonwoo? I met them in college. Wonwoo and I bonded pretty quickly since we’re both from Korea - but Jisoo is cool; he was born in the States,” Mingyu rambled with his hands in his jeans pockets, ambling down the countryside.

“An American friend, huh.” Seungkwan couldn’t lie: an American friend seemed exciting.

Mingyu gasped all of a sudden. “Actually! His friend is on his way. He’s American too!”

“Why didn’t he come with you guys?”

“He had to stay back for high school graduation. He’s the same age as you, maybe you’ll get along well with him. He’s a little quiet at first, but actually he has a great sense of humour!”

“Hm… maybe.” Seungkwan often found it a task to befriend quieter people.

Mingyu seemed overjoyed to be back at Piazza delle Erbe; there was that wide grin on his face where his canines poked over his bottom lip. Seungkwan had missed that dearly. He always knew that his smile was genuine when he flashed his _ ‘fangs’ _as he used to tease him with when they were kids. But Seungkwan only teased him with it because he found it truly and utterly adorable. No smile made him happier.

Seungkwan followed Mingyu through the cobblestone streets and narrow passageways, weaving in and out of the piazzetta. Mingyu told him all that had happened in America. He spoke about how much his English had improved, and even showed off his American accent that apparently all the American girls found adorable. (Seungkwan couldn’t tell if Mingyu was lying or not about that one.) He twittered on about how big the portions were over there and about how authentic the Korean restaurants _ really _were. When they sat down on the stone ledge of the fountain in the centre of the piazzetta, Seungkwan listened to Mingyu as he spoke fondly of the friends he’d made.

He picked up on one detail. “You talk about this Wonwoo friend a lot. Is he your best friend?”

Mingyu’s lips opened into a small ‘o’ shape and brows were raised behind his bangs. “I do?” Seungkwan nodded, watching an old lady pass by with a bag of fresh fruit. He listened to Mingyu’s chuckle beside him before the conversation shifted, “Hey, there’s a party at the lake tonight to catch up with old friends. Wanna come? I know your mom can be strict about those things, well, she was the last time I saw her. Maybe she’s softened after two years, I dunno.”

Seungkwan found Mingyu’s word choice rather exaggerated; his mother wasn’t _ strict _. Protective, that was it. But only over Seungkwan—it was the result of him being the youngest. Jinseol and Sojeong were able to get away with a lot of things that Seungkwan couldn’t. More so Jinseol.

“I’ll probably be there. She says I need to spend more time with friends lately,” Seungkwan said and twisted behind to dip his fingertips in the water of the quiet fountain.

“Well, I’m here now! And I brought friends! It’s gonna be the best summer yet, I can promise you that, Boo,” Mingyu chimed and rubbed his huge hand through Seungkwan’s hair.

He scrunched his face. “Yeah, yeah.”

They got up, and started walking around again.

“Still go there?” Mingyu asked as they strolled past the little old church.

“Yup. Haven’t missed a Sunday here,” Seungkwan said. Mingyu let out a chuckle.

“Remember when I used to wait for you outside on those steps every Sunday morning? And then we’d chase each other around the fountain!” Yes, Seungkwan recalled those Sunday’s so well. He could remember the warming notion that a friend would be waiting for him outside, and how excited it made him during church, utterly desperate to leave and play.

“I can’t believe you woke up so early just for me. My mother used to ask me every time if you’d be waiting outside again.”

“And I always was!” Mingyu exclaimed. They started walking again, past the church. “It was always so tiring though - to get here so early… Don’t you get sick of it?”

Seungkwan looked up at Mingyu. “Of what?”

Mingyu met his gaze. “Going every single Sunday.”

Seungkwan hesitated to think, dropping his head to his feet. “Honestly, these days I do get tired of it. But that’s not because of the early start, I don’t mind that at all.”

“Why is it, then?”

Seungkwan batted his hand. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just get back.” He didn’t want to get into his feelings on religion right now. Because right now, he was totally unsure. Things were changing for him, and perhaps faith was fading.

Mingyu left Seungkwan when they reached his house, and Seungkwan walked the rest of the way to his home, listening to the humming cicadas. He asked his mother about the party tonight, and if he was allowed to go. With luck, she allowed him, but with the curfew of 11 pm, and on the promise that Sojeong went with him. Which Sojeong was overjoyed about, seeing as she could miss the dinner tonight, and party instead.

Evening time, when the sun was _ still _ shining even though the air was cooling, Seungkwan slipped into his swim shorts and a loose t-shirt that he would no-doubt remove once he was at the lake. His swimming trunks were a baby pink and they were particularly short, stopping only just beneath the curve of his behind. He found them cute.

Stepping down the staircase, he could already hear the loud and jovial chatter of the houseguests arriving. The first to show up was the couple from a house not far from here. It was their second home, their holiday home, if you will. A wealthy, middle-aged couple from the South of France. They came here to Italy a lot more than Seungkwan’s family did, and they were always happy to see him. Seungkwan found it rather handy to practice his French with them since they spoke relatively quicker and had an accent. But usually, he spoke with them in Italian just like everyone else here.

“_ Salut! Salut! _” the tall wife, Diane exclaimed as Seungkwan walked closer to them in the main hallway by the open front door. Greta came to take the couple’s coats from them, along with Diane’s flashy handbag. Sojeong and her three friends joined him from the living room where they had been watching television.

Diane opened her arms and flashed her perfectly straight, white teeth through a huge smile. She pulled Seungkwan into a tight hug, and Seungkwan immediately caught scent of her _ Chanel No 5 _. He wrapped his arms around her thin torso - she was incredibly tall, especially in her white heels. Tonight, she was taller than her husband!

“I’ve missed you, _ mon chéri _! You look even more beautiful! Those eyes will capture hearts if they haven’t already!” she cooed, lifting Seungkwan’s chin with her manicured finger. Seungkwan put on a sweet smile for her.

When he stepped back, he was able to admire her colourful dress with slight shoulder padding. He’d seen a dress like this in a women’s fashion magazine that he kept hidden from his mother. He simply enjoyed flicking through the outfits, and he didn’t see any harm in that. But his mother would’ve. 

“Oh, you must say goodbye to them now! They won’t be staying with us tonight, but Jinseol is,” his mother brought up, after enthusiastically welcoming the husband, Lucien. She came to stand beside Seungkwan and place a hand on his shoulder, and she wrapped her other arm around her daughter’s waist. Seungkwan watched Diane’s face drop with disappointment, along with her husband’s as he stepped to stand by her side.

Lucien lifted his large hand. “Whatever for? Little Seungkwan is the light of the evening! And Sojeong makes everybody laugh!” Lucien’s voice was deep and full of energy. They were a fervent couple, to say the least, and were more like an aunt and uncle to Seungkwan and his sisters.

“Friends,” his mother simply answered, putting on a tone that said, _ can you believe they’re missing this!? How dare my precious children have friends. _

“We’ll miss you tonight, kids,” Diane said, reaching out to ruffle her hand through Seungkwan’s hair that he’d only just fixed, and then she rubbed Sojeong’s shoulder. “We will leave our gifts to you for when you return.” The couple always brought a little present for Seungkwan and his sisters every year. He was always grateful too.

After saying goodbye, he and his sister left out the front door and fetched two bikes around the side of the house. Sojeong’s friends had come on their bikes, so they grabbed their own.

Seungkwan rode behind his sister and her friends on the way; he didn’t exactly have anything to contribute to their gossip about boyfriends. He didn’t mean to listen in - their words just followed the breeze back and to him. It made him realise how rough his Italian was because he struggled to understand at some moments. Although that could just be because the girls blabbered so quickly. It sounded like even Sojeong was fighting to keep up with the three—he saw the back of her head as she darted it left and right, all the while keeping balance as they rode along the path. He was just glad it wasn’t himself in the midst of that.

Being homeschooled all his life so far had meant Seungkwan only held a small number of friends in his bubble. Yet he _ loved _ making friends, and he hoped that this evening there’d be new faces since last summer that he could get to know.

The lake they were going to was their go-to spot. Seungkwan knew the route by heart: _ take the rural road to town, but steer a right onto the dirt-path that leads into the dense woodland lining the crop fields. And then, the narrow dirt-path will take you through the greenery until you reach the bank and the little lake where the edges are surrounded by tree canopies. _ Pure glow from the sun would fall through the gaps in the canopies, kissing and warming the surface of the lake with its rays and cutting through.

There was already music and a fair amount of people when they arrived. The music on the radio wasn’t too loud, Seungkwan could hear the teen voices and splashes of bodies diving into the lake more than what song was playing. He dropped his bike down beside his sister’s on the grassy bank beneath a tree, and discarded his shirt there too, left in only his pink swimming trunks.

“Go find Mingyu, okay? I’ll be with Camilla and the others,” Sojeong said before she rushed to catch up with her friends who were already leaping into the green-blue water. It was a pretty colour, fresh, not dirty at all. But Seungkwan didn’t want to soak in it yet, not until he found his hyung.

Stepping over piles of people’s clothes and belongings that they’d rather they didn’t get wet, he found Mingyu on the bank, close to the edge of the lake. There was a cigarette between his pink lips and his skin and hair were dripping. Wonwoo sat close beside him, sharing a puff from his cig every now and then.

“You made it, Boo!” Mingyu chimed, smoke escaping his mouth. It was the summer of ‘77 when Seungkwan began to notice that toxic habit of Mingyu’s. And from then on, there’d always been the subtle, lingering scent of smoke on Mingyu’s person.

Seungkwan sat beside him on the grass, no longer granted the view of Wonwoo who was on the other side, unless he leaned his head forward. Wonwoo seemed quiet anyway, so it wasn’t an issue.

Mingyu passed his cigarette to Wonwoo who kept it this time, perhaps so Mingyu could talk without attacking Seungkwan with smoke in his face. Seungkwan appreciated that decision.

“Everyone’s been asking for you. People would think it was you who’d been gone for two summers!” Mingyu said with a short chuckle. Seungkwan’s eyes followed his veiny hand that ran through his damp locks.

“Is the water nice?” Seungkwan asked, shifting his eyes back to Mingyu’s again.

“What kinda question is that?! It’s always nice here, you know that. Go! See for yourself!” he enthused, nudging Seungkwan’s back gently so he’d stand up.

“I’ll come with you,” Wonwoo spoke. His voice was quiet as he looked down at the grass and stubbed the tip of the cigarette into the soil until it sizzled and the orange light died.

“Hey, I coulda finished that,” Mingyu yapped. But Wonwoo was already on his way to the water, Seungkwan following. 

“Jisoo and Hansol are around here somewhere - dunno where exactly,” Wonwoo muttered before he plunged off the grass into the water. Seungkwan copied and then raked his drenched hair out of his face when he reached the surface again. The water was cool on his sun-kissed skin. Just how he remembered it.

_ Who’s Hansol? The other American, maybe. _

Seungkwan was actually surprised by how much Wonwoo could talk! He got to know a lot about him; he’d just graduated with Mingyu and was planning on staying in New York a little longer to study. He and Mingyu were thinking about staying together, in fact.

“Psychology? So, can you read people’s minds?” Seungkwan asked through a mischievous smile. They were in the middle of the lake, idly swimming around each other. Wonwoo had just told him what he studied, and Seungkwan just _ had _to ask that question.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “If I had a dollar....” Seungkwan giggled at his reaction. Wonwoo was funny in his own way, Seungkwan had learned. The pale boy held a sarcasm to his words, but not in a dislikeable way - in fact, it was charming. Despite his sharp features and cold look to his feline eyes, Wonwoo was very much adorable.

“And Mingyu’s gonna major in fashion design, huh?” Seungkwan asked, looking over his shoulder to where Mingyu still sat on the bank, accompanied by Jisoo and some other friends now, and with a fresh cigarette. Gosh, he smoked more than he had before America.

“What he’ll do with that, I don’t know,” Wonwoo mumbled into his chest and Seungkwan faced him again. There was a hint of concern in his tone, but Seungkwan didn’t want to bring it up.

Seungkwan liked to think that he knew a lot about Mingyu. Truth was, he knew just as much as the others here. He saw Mingyu once a year, with perhaps phone calls between. But he picked up general things that Mingyu told him about: new girlfriends, how many centimetres he’d grown since last year, friend drama, anything that Mingyu would ramble about. He’d never heard about how Mingyu was feeling, though. And it seemed like Wonwoo did.

Mingyu joined them in the water, splashing and spinning to disrupt the calmness that had been of the lake. Seungkwan splashed back playfully - if his hair wasn’t already wet beforehand, it would’ve been a different story.

Wonwoo rather drifted back and watched with a smile. Until he swam closer to whisper something into Mingyu’s ear. Mingyu stopped thrashing around and his playful grin vanished as he gnawed on his bottom lip instead.

Seungkwan watched the scene unfold.

“I gotta take care of somethin’, Boo. I won’t be long!” he explained. He was already swimming back to land with Wonwoo when he called over his shoulder, “Go find Jisoo hyung! And Hansol!”

Seungkwan couldn’t find Jisoo hyung or Hansol. He did bump into old friends, reuniting after another year, trying his best to warm up to speaking in Italian again. The lake was busier than he’d expected; it seemed like there were friends of friends that Seungkwan didn’t know too well.

After searching on land too, he gave up looking for Jisoo. He swam through the people, and to the willow tree where its draping leaves were weeping down into the lake. It was quiet around here, pulled away from the buzz of the party. The water around here was a little warmer, he could see a thin layer of mist on the surface and the glowing orbs that were fireflies as they drifted in the hot night air like little stars that he could reach out for.

He dipped his head and observed the demure ripples below him, listening as they kindly washed up his chest. It was like they were signalling him to look up, like there was something for him to see and because the water couldn’t speak, it must incessantly tap him.

He followed nature’s orders.

At first glance, initial thoughts and emotions would always emit nothing but the truth. When eyes met for the first time, a realisation occurred. The beating of the heart almost stopping, and then increasing at a rapid pace. The tingling sensation that began at the very tips of the fingers before it ran up the spinal cord. The fingers tightened and relaxed, fingernails digging into the soft skin of the palms. The heat, the awakening surge of energy sharp within the pulsing veins, a feeling that was new and unexplainable to the body. The chest rose, the lungs expanding as air enters, but the throat tightening.

Every surrounding sound was muted and pushed aside.

This moment eclipsed everything.

From afar, Seungkwan found himself studying and staring the boy across from him. The soft blue colour of the water cast onto his face and the moonlight hit the ripples - he watched the light reflection move along his face, catching a glint in his eye. He was between the others in the lake, sometimes disappearing behind another body. But Seungkwan saw him swim closer, away from the rowdiness and to where Seungkwan swam alone. He came through the draping leaves of the willow tree, all the while holding his gaze.

“Seungkwan?” There was a look on his face like he wasn’t sure, his eyes narrowed, head tilted. He’d only said Seungkwan’s name but he could tell the boy had a low voice. Seungkwan nodded in response, watching a satisfaction wash over his face as he moved a little closer through the water. “I was wondering when I’d find you!”

There was a foreign look to the boy which Seungkwan found fascinating, as well as an American accent in his Korean.

“You’re Hansol?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” He dipped his head and then up again, projecting a satisfied smile. There! His smile! Such a wide grin where the top gum flashed as well as the little white round teeth. The tip of his tongue poked through ever so slightly—endearingly. And as he glanced down, his wonderfully long lashes kissed the tips of his risen cheeks. The sight brought Seungkwan’s heart to melt like hot candle wax, dripping, liquifying, slowly and almost in a hypnotising way, like it should’ve been time to blow out the flame before it made too much of a mess, but he wanted to let the candle melt just a little while longer. He didn’t mind the sting of the burning wax on his skin, not when it was so pretty to look at.

“What’re you doing back here?” Hansol asked.

Seungkwan shrugged, water falling over his shoulders. “It’s nice under the tree.” He glanced up at the underside of the willow tree that surrounded them. “What are _ you _doing back here?” He dropped his gaze to Hansol again.

“I’ve been looking for _ you _; Jisoo said you might be able to show me the way back home. I can’t remember it.”

“Oh, I can show you. Now?”

Hansol nodded. “If that’s alright.”

“Yeah, I’m tired of this party, anyway,” Seungkwan said, turning to climb out of the water. He stood up onto the grass beside the tree and stopped to look down at Hansol who was still in the water, looking up at him and smiling.

“Thanks, man,” he said and swam closer to pull himself out of the water. Seungkwan couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering down Hansol’s torso that was now visible…

He put his hand on his own tummy.

Still, under the tree, the moonlight melted through and made the droplets that ran down Hansol’s hair and skin sparkle.

They walked around the lake back to where everyone else was. Hansol told him why he wanted to head back so early; his flight here was at midnight and lasted eleven hours, and he hadn’t been able to sleep at all because he wanted to learn as much Italian as possible before arriving. His dedication was adorable.

“Do you know much Italian at all?” Seungkwan asked as he threw on his white t-shirt. It clung to the wetness on his body, almost making some areas of his tan skin visible through the fabric. He should’ve taken Hansol’s idea and just remained topless. Then again, he wasn’t as confident in his own skin as Hansol seemed to be.

Hansol scoffed as Seungkwan picked up his bike. “Let’s not embarrass me already.”

He dusted off his bike seat and smiled back. “I see, I see.”

There wasn’t much to talk about, walking back. But the silence, strangely, didn’t feel heavy on Seungkwan like it should’ve when walking beside a person he’d only just met. The simmering cicadas and the click of their bike wheels as they wheeled them beside their waists was enough.

He occasionally glanced to the right, intrigued by Hansol’s soft profile and thick hair of honey-golden wisps and waves

The dusky countryside was melting in the heat-haze of the night. The peaceful tracks they ambled down that was followed all the way along by the tall grass and crop fields along the edges, the remaining water droplets that fell from the damp ends of their hair, their footsteps, (sometimes synced if Seungkwan focused), along the dry dirt-path. How Seungkwan felt as if only the two of them walked the earth, they shared this moment together, and alone. With only the blinking silver stars that began to glint and appear up above.

“Have you been to Italy before?” Seungkwan asked, dying to make conversation.

“Nope. I know you’ve been here a lot, though; Mingyu’s told me so much about you, actually.”

“Oh yeah? What’s he told you?” Seungkwan was almost worried for Hansol’s reply. Especially when that mischievous grin sparked onto the boy’s face again.

“Hmm, that your mom’s a published author, and you’re the one who makes Mingyu laugh the hardest… Oh! And that you’ve never had your first kiss!”

“He said that?!” Seungkwan squeaked and Hansol nodded. “Don’t listen to him,” he trailed off; unfortunately, Mingyu wasn’t lying about that...

...Hansol suggested that they rode the rest of the way. Seungkwan agreed and climbed onto his bike. He began to pedal the slightest distance ahead of Hansol, just to keep him on the right path. They rolled through the chirping of the crickets and the hum of the sweet warm night, down the road that Seungkwan had taken more times than he could count. He had biked, walked, ran, raced through here since childhood. Somehow, not once had he tripped or injured himself around here, where you’d most expect a child to do so whilst playing around.

Until tonight.

When he rode over a large rock, front-wheel twisting violently and taking the handlebars with it, out of Seungkwan’s control. He tumbled to the floor. Followed by his bike that landed on top of him quite harshly. A painful and startled yelp escaped Seungkwan’s lips as he lay on the grass, completely abashed. To know that Hansol had watched the entire accident from behind brought a pinkness to his cheeks. He sat up and pouted, unable to look to Hansol who had hopped off his bike to kneel down to Seungkwan’s level.

“Are you hurt? You hit the ground pretty hard!” Hansol fretted. Seungkwan didn’t say a word. He simply watched in awe as Hansol gently took his left hand and raised it to his eye-level.

He ran a warm fingertip across the fresh scrape on Seungkwan’s palm. His warm breath was kind on the sensitive skin as he studied the injury carefully. “Can you still ride?” he asked and shifted his gaze from Seungkwan’s hand to his eyes. The concern on Hansol’s features made every new pain suddenly vanish.

Seungkwan nodded. Still ashamed.

It was only a few cuts and scrapes. He should be able to carry on riding the rest of the way back—the only thing that could truly falter him now was his humiliation.

And with that, Hansol stood up and stretched an arm out to Seungkwan. He was offering his hand. Seungkwan took it reluctantly and used this strength to pull himself up from the ground.

Seungkwan didn’t want to release his grip from Hansol, but he did it quickly anyway. He dusted himself off and picked up his bike. Hansol turned to get his own.

“Come back to Mingyu’s with me and I’ll clean you up, okay?” he suggested with his back facing Seungkwan.

Seungkwan truly felt okay so he rapidly declined Hansol’s offer, “No it’s okay. I’m alright—”

Hansol pedalled away. Seungkwan watched with a puzzled expression.

_ This boy… _

Now Seungkwan had no choice but to follow him back to Mingyu’s. It was as if he left swiftly on purpose so Seungkwan couldn’t deny his offer.

The rest of the way back, not a word was spoken. Seungkwan’s grip on the handlebars was looser since it would’ve hurt to hold on too tightly. His knees stung with every push down on the pedals, but more like the pain you would feel when falling over as a child—scraping your knees came with a mild discomfort that was totally bearable.

“I don’t know my way around the house just yet,” Hansol admitted as they rode closer to the front of the house, “It’s so big for a farmhouse.”

Seungkwan crashed his bike down onto the grass beside the front door and stepped in where Hansol had left the door open for him. Of course, he did know his way around Mingyu’s house, but he followed Hansol down the hallway to the kitchen.

It was completely dark, apart from the moonlight that snuck in through the windows. The kitchen was large with its marble flooring and opening into the dining area that ultimately served as a way to get to the backyard.

The air was so quiet as they walked through. The floor creaked beneath them as all that could be heard was their footsteps. The house was completely empty. Not another soul in this home apart from theirs tonight.

Seungkwan slid himself onto the island in the centre of the room and watched in amusement as Hansol rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and drawers. There was such an intense attentiveness on his face that Seungkwan couldn’t help but smile to himself as he gently swung his legs back and forth, dangling from the counter. He wanted to tease Hansol for being unable to find what he was looking for, but he kept his mouth closed; there was still a shyness in the air.

There was no vocal exchange between the two when Hansol finally came back with a small first aid kit in his hands. He placed it beside Seungkwan on the counter and washed his hands under the tap behind. And they still didn’t utter a word when Hansol crouched down with the box and wiped the dried blood from Seungkwan’s knees with a tiny alcohol wipe. The sudden coldness and biting sting when Hansol applied pressure caused Seungkwan to jolt and he hissed through his teeth.

“Sorry,” Hansol mumbled ever so quietly as he focused more on cleaning Seungkwan’s knees than articulating his apology. Seungkwan found it to be so endearing, to watch the boy tap with the utmost delicacy on his skin with the wipe. And just like Hansol wiped the blood away, Seungkwan wiped the tiny smile from his lips before Hansol could notice it.

His gaze carefully observed down on him. From this closer distance, he could notice the colour of Hansol’s eyes: they weren’t completely dark, more of a lighter brown that seemed even brighter when they caught the light. Seungkwan liked it; it was different. In fact, his whole appearance was of what Seungkwan had never seen so beautiful on anybody else. His almost Western look only made him all the more enchanting. His uniqueness was captivating. Seungkwan studied his face even more from the powerful thick brows to the short nose; his smallish, puffy lips that resembled the silky texture of a mandarin slice—_ Seungkwan bet they tasted just as sweet _. His olive skin shone like glass, and his jaw was defined and strong. Hansol was a pleasing combination of soft and rugged.

Seungkwan looked to the hand that tended to the scratches on his legs. It was large. It could’ve probably cupped Seungkwan’s entire kneecap. It did. His mind drifted to what else those hands could cup...

“Ah!” he gasped. Hansol had pressed a little too hard, triggering a sting to jolt Seungkwan back to his senses.

“_ Aish _, I’m so sorry, Seungkwan,” Hansol apologised gently again and winced at the discomfort he had seemed to cause to Seungkwan. Clumsy fingers, those were what he had. Seungkwan looked down and watched Hansol unwrap a band-aid. He slowly peeled away the white sheet to reveal that it was pink, and he (again) apologised about the ‘girlish’ colour, with the excuse that these were the only ones in the kit. Seungkwan dismissed him. The pink looked pretty against his tan legs. Though he would never admit that out loud.

“They match your shorts at least.” Hansol grinned and gestured to Seungkwan’s light pink trunks. Seungkwan smiled. It took him by surprise when he realised: Hansol had taken in such a detail.

When his knees were patched up, a milky pink band-aid on each, Hansol used the wipe to clean up Seungkwan’s scraped palms. By this moment, it was delightfully peaceful. An intimate exchange in the darkness of the kitchen, listening to the warm buzz of cicadas outside through the open door to the backyard, as Hansol treated his wounds without having to utter a word.

Like a child who had taken a fall and now he sat on the counter, wiping his tears as his mother kissed him better.

When Hansol was done, Seungkwan hopped off the counter as Hansol puts the first aid kit away. The comfortable silence persisted. It endured until Seungkwan was outside the front door again, picking up his bike, getting ready to say goodnight. Hansol stood with his shoulder leaning on the door frame to watch down on him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Seungkwan said as he dusted his white bike seat off, not daring to look up at Hansol. He didn’t like a fuss to be made over him… but then again, he quite enjoyed the limelight when he wanted it. Oh, how complex humans could be.

As he looked down, he caught a glimpse of the band-aids on his knees, and he suppressed the urge the smile. _ Cute. _

“You can just say thanks, y’know.” The smirk on Hansol’s mouth could be heard in his tone. He cleared his throat. “But no, you’re right, I didn’t have to do that,” his voice kindly melted into the night ambience. “I wanted to, though.”

Seungkwan’s head shot up to look at the sweet smile that Hansol displayed. 

“Thank you. I’ll… see you ‘round,” he managed to utter before climbing onto his bike and wheel away. He wished he could’ve stayed with Hansol longer, but he was also dying to escape. 

Pedal after pedal, he made his way off the land, through the gates where vines of green leaves snaked around, and he rode home. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Hansol had said to him: I wanted to.

_ He wanted to... he wanted to…. He wanted to make sure I was okay? Or he wanted to perform a good deed? _

Home. His mother still had people over. Seungkwan managed to slip upstairs whilst they chattered in the garden, most likely done with dining now, and simply taking the wine as it came, and kept coming. _ I wonder which wine they settled on, _Seungkwan thought as he scampered up the staircase before anybody came into the hallway and caught him. He could hear the cheery laughter from his mother, she must’ve treated herself to indulge too. She often did on the first night back.

After choosing something that was more suitable for bed from his suitcase (he _ must _ unpack tomorrow), he lay on top of the sheets. His thoughts began to meander. The image of when he first laid eyes on Hansol was still fresh in his mind. It hadn’t left. It was embedded and he knew it would never leave.

Seungkwan lay in bed that night unable to drift into slumber; the buzz of meeting somebody new was keeping him up_ . _ He listened to the laughter and chatter downstairs as he lay on his back, and chose to get up again once the hubbub had quietened when people had started to head home.

The bottoms of his bare feet were struck with the freezing cold slabs as he stepped down the staircase, rubbing his eyes with his fist. There was only quiet conversation now, that came from the backyard. Seungkwan followed it, shuffling down the hallway. Until he heard his name softly called from the living room. He switched direction and headed there instead.

Jinseol was sat at the grand piano, poking idly at the keys. She looked worn out.

“Have fun at the lake?” she asked. Seungkwan came over to the piano and leaned on the side of it. He watched his sister’s heavy hands prod the white keys.

“Mhmm,” he hummed. “Have fun at the dinner party?”

Jinseol didn’t have to answer; she simply flashed a look to Seungkwan that said, _ what do you think, huh? Does it look like I did? _

Seungkwan smiled at her. “Did mother work you?” He figured that was the reason Jinseol didn’t look too happy about tonight.

“Did she?” she scoffed. “She made me talk about my _ entire _ academic life. And I _ know _some of her friends have heard it before; I recognised the boredom on their faces,” she huffed, sounding completely defeated. Seungkwan could hear her frustration as she stabbed an F key with her fingertip.

“That’s what you get for being so intelligent, noona,” was the kindest statement Seungkwan was able to come up with. It hadn’t mattered anyway, because Jinseol’s attention was already somewhere else.

“Hey, what happened here?” She gestured to Seungkwan’s legs, and flashed him a concerned look. He followed his sister’s gaze to the band-aids.

“Oh, I fell off my bike on the way back… But it’s okay; Hansol patched me up,” Seungkwan reassured her that his legs weren’t about to drop off, as much as it seemed from the worry settled within her round eyes.

It was replaced with question. “Hansol… I don’t think I’ve heard of that one. Is he a new friend?” Her eyes narrowed.

“_ Il Americano _, Mingyu’s New York friend.”

“Well,” Jinseol groaned as she stood up from the stool, outstretching her arms and scrunching her face. She then pointed a finger at Seungkwan. “I hope you thanked him.”

“Of course I thanked him!” Seungkwan pouted, partly offended by the fact that his sister would assume he wouldn't have used his manners. Seungkwan was always well-mannered!

Jinseol was already walking off, her back to Seungkwan as she headed for the hallway. Until she stopped and shuffled around again.

“Oh! Your gift from the French couple is out here. It’s the little wooden box,” she said, eyes droopy with the wish to sleep. “I’m going to bed now. See you in the morning, Bunny.”

“Goodnight, noona.”

And then she left the living room. Seungkwan listened to her tired footsteps as she carried herself up the staircase. She hadn’t called him Bunny for a long time, and it almost made Seungkwan’s evening - after meeting Hansol.

He remained at the piano for a little while, sitting at the stool and tinkering with sweet melodies. He was letting his mind wander as his fingers did so. To be glad was an understatement, for how he felt to return to this house, this place. It was always a sweet summer escape, a getaway from the problems that lay in Jeju. Already, he could tell that this summer was going to unfold differently, now that Mingyu had returned, and at that, returned with new faces. Friendly faces, nonetheless - in other words, Seungkwan could foresee himself taking to Mingyu’s friends from America. Perhaps more so with Hansol; they seemed to be on the same wavelength, being the same age and all.

When Seungkwan stepped out into the cool hallway, hearing the chatter in the backyard, he found the wooden box on the tableside. It had a blue ribbon around it which Seungkwan pulled off, to lift open the lid of the box. 

It was a wristwatch. He twisted his hand to examine the fragile thing, and held it around his wrist. It fitted perfectly. He should’ve known, coming from that couple - they’d bought him a delicate, French wristwatch for Seungkwan to wear, and watch the sun bounce off its golden body all summer long.

And watch time tick, tick, tick by… all summer long.


	3. Aristophanes

Through the morning, Hansol remained deeply asleep. He rested through the birdsongs and the others that began to stir within the house. Through the faint chime of bells around the necks of the goats, grazing on the pasture far back. He was in such a profound state of slumber, that he didn’t wake until early noon, when the golden sunlight struck across his eyes.

As he groaned softly, he aroused in the bed and let his body stretch the whole length of it. The thin sheets were kind to his skin, soaking in the sun’s warmth. Last night, he’d become worn out from the journey, and upon letting his head rest on his pillow, he’d slipped into a heavy dream as easily as he’d slipped into that bed.

Sitting up and untangling his legs from the sheets, he yawned quietly and rubbed a hand through his tousled hair. 

The bedroom that he shared with Jisoo held two single beds, a few feet apart and against either wall. Between their beds, the window was locked open, curtains blowing and occasionally brushing against his skin. He twisted his torso to lean his elbows on the window sill, poking his head out and taking a deep inhale of the clean air. He’d never done that back home.

Below, there were voices. Hansol leaned out the window a little more and dropped his vision to the front of the house, directly beneath him. Mingyu and Wonwoo were talking, stood beside Mingyu’s car. Mingyu’s voice was significantly louder - Hansol could only hear what he was saying.

“Oh, you _want _to come with me, huh?” He had one arm of his sunglasses hanging between his teeth, and he was wearing blue jeans paired with a denim jacket, over a white shirt. Only Mingyu could pull off denim on denim.

Wonwoo was kicking his foot in the dirt, hands in the pockets of his shorts. His head was low when he answered Mingyu. But whatever it was made Mingyu laugh and playfully nudge Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Come on, then.” Mingyu got into the driver’s seat and Wonwoo walked around to sit beside him. Hansol didn’t think much of where they were going as he watched the car leave. He didn’t think much.

Bare feet tapping on the wooden floorboards, he made his way to the bright ensuite on Jisoo’s side of the room. It looked like Jisoo had already used the shower; the shower curtains were damp and the air still felt thick with warmth. Hansol reached over to turn on the shower, dipping his hand in the spray of water.

One thing that Hansol admired about Mingyu and Wonwoo was their friendship. They could be deemed total opposites, but they got along naturally. Wonwoo smiled differently when he was smiling at Mingyu - Hansol had noticed. 

After showering, he dressed into a colourful t-shirt and shorts. Not as bold as Mingyu’s double denim, but comfortable. Hansol liked to be comfortable more than anything.

He found Jisoo in the hammock between two trees in the backyard. Blanketed beneath textbooks and notebooks, focused on Plato’s Symposium. Jisoo enjoyed philosophy in college. Yet Hansol doubted his enthusiasm for it when he was given an assignment to complete during summer break.

Before he’d stepped out into the sunny backyard, Hansol had swiped a pear from the fruit bowl in the kitchen. He ate it as he lay in the hammock with Jisoo, listening to his hyung ramble quietly to himself about what he was reading. It was nice because Jisoo had the most soothing voice that Hansol had ever heard. Jisoo was soft-spoken and tender with his words. Everything he said was what heaven probably sounded like.

“I thought you were never gonna wake up,” Jisoo chuckled.

“When did you guys get back last night?” Hansol questioned and then took a huge bite out of the pear. Probably a little too big; he chewed clumsily.

“People started to head home, like, a couple hours after you left.” Jisoo started to laugh. “Mingyu was so wasted, man, we had to explain to him why cycling back was a bad idea. Like, I wouldn’t have minded, but Wonwoo refused to help him get back up if he fell off his bike.”

Coming back to Italy, Mingyu must’ve been overjoyed that he could drink legally again. That was certainly evident last night. 

“Seungkwan did that last night, actually. I don’t think he was drunk, though,” Hansol mentioned nonchalantly after he’d swallowed his mouthful. He instantly took another bite.

Jisoo peeked his doe eyes over the book that he had up to his face. “Was he alright?”

Hansol nodded. “Just some scrapes.” Even though Seungkwan was okay, Hansol couldn’t help but still feel awful that it happened to him. He’d tried his best, last night, to make Seungkwan feel at ease.

Jisoo hummed and dipped back into his book. “Seungkwan seemed okay, didn’t he?” he asked a minute later.

Hansol frowned at the uncertainty in Jisoo’s tone. “What d'you mean?”

Jisoo sighed. “I dunno, maybe it was rude of me, but I thought he’d be, hmm, kinda stuck-up, y’know? Like, snobbish,” he spluttered.

Hansol could understand why Jisoo would’ve expected as such from Seungkwan. Jisoo had evidently jumped to conclusions about Seungkwan, only from what Mingyu had mentioned about him beforehand. But Hansol didn’t like to summarise somebody in just a couple of words—not without getting to know them first.

“But he’s not. Right?”

“No, he seems sweet, really,” Jisoo answered calmly. 

“Yeah. Sweet,” Hansol muttered with the pear close to his lips. He bit off a sweet mouthful.

There was silence afterwards that he basked in. Listening to the pages turn in Jisoo’s gentle hand, and the distant livestock bleating. Jisoo was a wonderful person to enjoy the peace with; he was part of the peace himself.

Hansol ended up listening to Jisoo explain a theory from Aristophanes, one of the men in Symposium. His theory was about a time when there were three sexes: the all-male, from the sun; female, earth; and androgynous, moon. When Zeus had decided to chop them in half, into two separate bodies, after the creatures planned to challenge against the gods. _And ever since, us lost and lonely halves have searched the world trying to find our other half. _Women who were separated from their own kind search for each other. And likewise, for the men, searching for their other being who also enjoys being loved and embraced by another man. And same for the androgynous.

Hansol wasn’t one for philosophy and mythology, but the theory intrigued him.

“D’you think he’s right?” he asked Jisoo. “Think we all have our own half?”

Jisoo closed the book to give Hansol his full attention. “Hm, I believe there’s someone for everyone. Maybe not always romantically, but we’ve all gotta match with _someone _on this earth, right?”

Admittedly, Hansol had no clue. “You’re clever, hyung,” he said, casually batting a fly away.

Jisoo scoffed. “Wonwoo is the clever one.” He shuffled in the hammock. “He must’ve gone with Mingyu to pick up Minghao.”

“Minghao?”

Jisoo nodded. “Mingyu’s roommate. They’re good friends, actually. Used to take the same class in fashion design but now he focuses on his artwork.” Jisoo folded his arms behind his head, the hammock swinging with his movement. “He’s doing this personal project where he, like, travels across Europe and does, uhm, something - I don’t actually remember…”

Minghao sounded like an artistic soul. It sparked Hansol’s interest.

“That reminds me, I wanna get some paints from town.” Hansol climbed out of the hammock, careful not to let any books fall out and land on the grass. But of course, one did. He put it back in the hammock with Jisoo.

“You know your way?” Jisoo asked. Hansol hesitated. He didn’t know his way. “Well… I need to get some more work done. Maybe see if Seungkwan’ll take you? He’s just in the old villa up the bank, isn’t he?” he suggested.

“Yeah. I’ll try that. See ya later, hyung.”

Hansol was walking back through the house to grab his wallet when the phone began to ring in the hallway. After hesitation, he picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“Hansol! Son! It’s your dad!” A familiar, hearty voice.

“Oh, dad, I forgot to call. I’m sorry,” Hansol groaned, sliding into the armchair beside the small table. He’d promised his dad that he would call him as soon as he got to the house yesterday. But Hansol was awfully forgetful.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I just assumed you were busy getting comfortable. Anyway, are you having fun?”

“Yeah, it’s nice here. Warm weather.”

He heard his dad scoff down the line. “Is that all I get? Come on, what’ve you done so far?”

“Uh, well there was a party at the lake last night. I stuck with Jisoo hyung mostly.”

“You didn’t meet anyone? Not make any friends?” His dad had been eager for him to take this vacation, just to experience something fresh, learn something new.

“I did meet Seungkwan, the boy that Mingyu mentions whenever he talks about Italy. He’s, hm… He’s - well, I don’t really know quite yet. I’m just about to go see if he’ll show me around town today.”

“Oh! I better let you go, then! I’m glad you’ve arrived safely. I’ll call you soon, son. Maybe you can talk to Sofia next time.”

He hung up. Hansol smiled to himself. He was grateful for his dad; he wasn’t one of those severe parents that never let loose of their child. No, his dad was very much laidback with his two children. Hansol was eighteen now, and he was treated like an adult by his dad, which he wholly appreciated.

Around the side of the house, Hansol chose from the bikes that were leaned up against the wall. He could see the farm when he looked over his shoulder, where Florenzo was walking by with his scraggly dog. Hansol didn’t know much about the old farmer, all he knew was that he’d be helping him out during the summer, from time to time.

There were a few bikes here - Hansol was borrowing the red one for his stay. He untangled it from the other handlebars and pedals, and brushed his hand over the beige seat. When he’d rode it for the first time last night, it was terribly stiff, but by now he’d loosened it up.

He followed up the bank, pushed up, past the other sparse villas until he reached the gates of a larger one. It was the last one before a dead end, so he guessed this was it. What looked to be a gardener, opened the gate for Hansol. And he rode around the grassy yard, under the trees, and under the stone archway to reach the front door. His left bike beside the door and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It was incredibly hot today.

He’d almost knocked over a plant pot when he stepped closer to knock on the door, but swiftly saved himself.

For a long ten seconds, he waited, scuffing his converse trainers in the dirt, stepping around in circles. The sun was beating down on his back. He listened to the birds and the distant lawnmower.

Until the door eventually opened.

“Oh, hello,” a female greeted him in Italian. Immediately Hansol reassured that he spoke Korean. He greeted her with a bow. He guessed that she was a family member, seeing as she had the same full cheeks and cheery eyes as Seungkwan.

“I’m Hansol, uh, Mingyu’s friend.”

“Oh,_ Americano_. Seungkwan told me about you,” she spoke calm and mature. “Are you looking for him?” Hansol nodded. “Come in, I think he’s in his room. I’m Jinseol, by the way, his sister.”

Jinseol told Hansol where to turn after he reached the top of the staircase, so he ambled down the wide hallway until he reached the final door to the left of him. This house was wonderful. It made Mingyu’s moderately-sized farmhouse seem tiny.

He knocked and waited outside of what he’d been told was Seungkwan’s room. There was a large window at the end of this hallway, that looked out onto the backyard. It brought in so much sunshine - not one corner of this house was gloomy.

No one answered. All Hansol could hear through the crack in the door was the spray of a shower. Water hitting a moving body and dripping down the skin, falling onto the tiles.

“Seungkwan?” He took the chance and pushed the door open. Seungkwan must be in the shower. Hansol looked to the left of the room where there was an open archway to an ensuite, where the steam and warmth was coming from.

Assuming that Seungkwan wouldn’t mind, he decided to wait around in the bedroom. It was a fairly large room, and it did display the same Italian, 17th-century manner that the rest of the house had. But this room manifested another quality - something younger - with the colourful posters and books. It felt like Seungkwan’s.

Hansol found himself stood at the large wooden armoire opposite Seungkwan’s bed. Burning, he was just burning to look inside. Even so, he didn’t. And instead, sat at the end of the double bed, twisting his torso to run a hand along the top of the bed. The white sheets were tucked in and tidy-

“Oh- Hansol.”

Hansol shot his head up to see Seungkwan. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, just-” He stood up from Seungkwan’s bed, suddenly overcome with the feeling that he was intruding.

“No, it’s fine, it’s okay,” Seungkwan reassured, rubbing a small towel through his damp hair. He stood with another towel loosely wrapped around his waist. Water was dripping and running down the surface of his skin just like last night, and droplets were harbouring on the ends of his hair.

Thus far, Hansol had hardly seen Seungkwan dry.

His eyes jumped from Seungkwan’s body to his face, and he started to fidget on his feet, not really sure of what to say next. Seungkwan stepped to the side of the bed to where his clothes were laid out. Thereupon, Hansol took the notion that Seungkwan did not want eyes on him, so he spun around and stood at the doors to the balcony.

Nectar sunshine fell on his face.

“Did my mother let you in?” Seungkwan asked. Hansol could hear him shuffle around to get dressed. And he suddenly became aware of the idea that Seungkwan was probably naked behind him as of now. There was always the lingering thought that he could choose to turn around at any moment. He didn’t, of course.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked up at the empty sky - really, there was not even a hint of any cloud nearby. “Your sister,” he answered. “I was just wondering if you could show me around town? I need to get some paints.”

“Uhm, yeah! I have nothing else to do, so...”

“You don’t?” Hansol assumed that Seungkwan was one with many friends, always busy doing something with someone. He seemed rather friendly - certainly somebody that everyone wanted to befriend. So to hear that, actually, he didn’t have any plans for today, almost shifted Hansol’s view.

“Nope.” Hansol heard Seungkwan’s footsteps near him until the warmth of another body was beside him. He met his gaze then. He was smiling. “It’s either this or hang around with my sister and her friends. I’d be glad to show you ‘round.”

Hansol smiled back. “Oh, thank you, then.”

“You bring your bike?”

“It’s out the front.”

“C’mon then. _Americano_.”

They bumped into Seungkwan’s mom on the staircase. Seungkwan introduced Hansol to her and she seemed pleased that her son had a new friend. That was what he dubbed him as, a new friend. Hansol bowed kindly to her and tried to speak Korean without his American accent slipping through, simply because he didn’t like the attention it drew to him.

“Yes, I’m a friend of Mingyu’s,” he said and watched Seungkwan hurry down the stairs, wanting to join him down there.

“And did you graduate with him too?”

“Oh, no, I just left high school.” Did he really look that mature?

“Ah so you’re Seungkwan’s age, that’s lovely! I think you’ll get along well, then,” she enthused. Hansol flashed her a smile.

“Come on, Hansol!” Seungkwan called from the front door. Hansol bowed to her again and followed to catch up to Seungkwan. “I’ll be back later!” the blonde announced before closing the door behind them.

Seungkwan glowed in the daylight the way that golden jewellery did under the sun. As they rode down the humming countryside, pedalling at a relaxed pace and making small-talk, Seungkwan looked ahead—but Hansol looked at him to listen attentively. The afternoon haze made his honey skin bloom.

“Homeschool?” Hansol brought up.

“Yeah. My sisters actually went to an all-girls school. So I dunno why she chose homeschool for me.”

“Maybe she was tired of the school runs,” Hansol joked, earning a smile from Seungkwan.

As they sped up, he stayed slightly behind Seungkwan, to follow him. But what he hadn’t expected from this was to be distracted. With the view from behind, he found himself... surprised. It was the shape of Seungkwan’s ass in those denim shorts he wore - especially when he lifted it from his bike seat to pedal harder. 

Subsequently, he chose to revert back to pedalling beside Seungkwan.

The route to town was simple enough - Hansol just had to follow the road through the countryside until they eventually reached the piazzetta. It was a pleasing journey, too.

“I don’t think I’ve ever bought paints in Italy,” Seungkwan muttered ahead of him. They wheeled their bikes across the smooth, patterned stone of the piazzetta until Seungkwan stopped at a tiny art store, tucked away in the corner. “I’ll wait out here.” He took Hansol’s bike and rested against the wall. Hansol thanked him quietly and stepped inside the store.

The coolness of the indoors was so pleasing on his skin that’d been under the hot sun for so long. It was quiet in here, with only an old man at the till.

“What are you looking for?” he asked through a gravelly voice. Hansol was going to have to use the little Italian he had.

“Uh, oils- oil paints,” he stuttered. The man seemed to understand - and Hansol left the store with what he’d wanted.

After buying the paints - fumbling for the cash in his pocket - Hansol stepped back out into the sun. The bikes were still against the wall, but Seungkwan wasn’t. Hansol wasn’t one to worry, so he casually wrapped the small, plastic bag, around the handlebar of his bike, and rested his back against the wall to wait for Seungkwan to return. It didn’t take long for him to spot the back of the boy at one of the stalls in the middle of the piazzetta—seemed to be an ice cream stall. He watched Seungkwan return with a cone of ice cream in each hand, and a skip in his step.

“I hope you’re not lactose intolerant, otherwise I’m eating both - wait, I hope you _are_!” Seungkwan giggled.

“Sadly for you, I’m not,” Hansol joked back. He kindly took a cone of ice cream from Seungkwan and thanked him. They took their bikes to an empty bench near a quiet cafe where they enjoyed their dessert.

Seungkwan was what Hansol could only call ‘close’. Because it seemed that Seungkwan liked to be close with people. He filled the space between them on the bench - their thighs, and occasionally, shoulders, touching. Hansol didn’t mind it at all. It was quite charming that Seungkwan always wanted to be near.

He finished his ice cream rather quickly but Seungkwan took his time. Hansol was patient, though. Listening to Seungkwan rattle away about the prices from the ice cream stall, he looked around the piazzetta, watching people in the marketplace and the odd tourist with their disposable cameras and sunglasses.

But whenever he glanced to Seungkwan, he found his mind wandering off to its darkest depths. He couldn’t tell if his cheeks were growing hot because of the sun, or the way that Seungkwan’s cheeks hollowed when he put the ice cream in his mouth… Hansol patted his cheeks with the backs of his hands and looked away to watch the fountain instead, still nodding his head to what Seungkwan had to ramble about.

He told himself, that afternoon, that it was just the heat.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a calming presence?” Seungkwan had asked when they walked down the cobblestone streets. Hansol shook his head.

“You’re the first.”

“But you do. It’s nice to be around you,” Seungkwan trailed off. Hansol looked at him. He had his head dipped low, focused on the turn of his front wheel. Hansol’s lips curved into an intimate smile when he dropped his own head. Compliments were things he didn’t receive often - it was nice to know his presence alone could please somebody.

They carried on walking through the narrow street of apartment buildings and the occasional cafe or store.

“It’s so beautiful here. Nothing like New York. It’s a different kind of beauty,” Hansol said, looking up at the colourful apartments where there were flowers draping from window boxes, and flung-open windows and washing lines hanging from window to window.

“What’s New York like?” he heard Seungkwan ask.

“It’s like, a totally different world compared to this, totally different time period. It’s all fluorescent lights and business suits, and no space…”

“But not here...”

“I’d like to visit New York one day. Put my terrible English to use. Just like you’re doing with your Italian now,” Seungkwan remarked through a stifled giggle.

It took a moment for Hansol to realise. When he did, he looked to Seungkwan, who was grinning, and he raised his brows. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“I heard you in the store before I left to get ice cream!” Seungkwan sassed playfully.

“Okay, how about if you teach me Italian, I’ll help you with your English.” Seemed like a reasonable arrangement to Hansol.

Seungkwan’s sneer said otherwise. “No way, I don’t wanna learn during summer break!”

Hansol shrugged. “Okay, well I won’t be the one to blame when you don’t know how to ask for directions in New York,” he mirrored Seungkwan’s tone.

Grinning, he shared a childish look with Seungkwan and then watched him dip his head, still smiling.

Amid the thick summer air, they cycled through the peacefully empty streets. Verona was a tourist trap, with Juliet’s balcony where lovers would go to stand upon. And its statue of Juliet where if you rubbed either one of her breasts, the gesture would apparently send love your way. Or there was Lake Garda just between Verona and Brescia, with its crystal-clear water that glittered under the sun. Seungkwan said he used to visit the lake often with his father, and that they’d probably go there a few times this summer too. They also passed _Torre dei Lamberti_ in the piazzetta they’d just been in: the watchtower was so tall, that Seungkwan claimed you could view the whole city from the top, and could even see the nearby green mountains.

There was so much in Verona that would wrench the tourists in, and bustle and crowd the streets, but somehow, Seungkwan took Hansol through the almost silent areas. Where no foreigner would even know about, or care to visit. It was kind of exclusive and almost personal. Intimate. Intimate in that Seungkwan was willing to share these quiet stretches of his life in Italy with Hansol. And share stories that he experienced with Mingyu in one alleyway, or moments he recalled with his sisters in another.

It brought Hansol to feel blessed with such honour of trust.

“So, are you a good painter?” Seungkwan asked him. They stopped riding again and idly wheeled their bikes along the riverside of the Adige river, along the houses and restaurants of all different colours: bumblebee, tangerine, white, apricot. Hansol thought: he wouldn’t mind spending a part of his life in one of these homes. They were moderately tall buildings with greenery and flowers, some with small balconies to look out onto the river that was just one walk across the road away. An elderly woman sat on her wicker chair on her balcony, puffing smoke and watching below, whilst a fruit cart wheeled by on the road.

“I hope so,” Hansol replied over the whisper of a car that rolled past. He would never call himself a _painter_, rather somebody who enjoyed to paint for free.

“You should paint me something, sometime,” Seungkwan suggested. Hansol stopped walking. Seungkwan spun around when he noticed Hansol was no longer beside him.

“I’m not that great at portraits,” he confessed, bringing Seungkwan to chuckle.

“I never said it had to be a painting of me, _doofus_.” The blonde boy stepped closer and softly hit Hansol’s chest with the back of his tan hand.

Hansol decided to play along. “Ah, okay, okay!” he sniggered and playfully swung a gentle fist to Seungkwan’s upper arm. With a small smile on his lips, Seungkwan spun around and climbed onto his bike, taking off without a heads-up.

Left on the pavement, Hansol scrambled onto his own bike and pedalled after him once again.

“Wait up!”

He didn’t forget where Seungkwan hit him. He could still feel his touch on his chest as they cycled through the streets again, wind in their hair. They’d been out for a while by now—Hansol was growing familiar with the area. “I have nowhere else to go,” he brought up as they rode beside each other through a short archway tunnel. The darkness was cool on his exposed skin. “I go back to the house, and Jisoo will be busy working,” he rambled on, voice echoing until they reached the outside again. Their bikes bounced along the bumpy cobblestone street. Hansol didn’t speak again, and neither did Seungkwan.

It wasn’t until they turned a corner and reached a downward-sloping bank of cafés and little gift shops, where Seungkwan eventually said something to break the silence between them. “Come with me, back to mine. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Hansol had obliged obliviously. He didn’t usually ask questions, he was fairly easygoing. Hansol went with the flow. He was a fallen branch in the moving river.

He followed Seungkwan back home, working up a sweat as they cycled under the sun. When they reached the front of the house, Seungkwan crashed his bike down outside. So Hansol copied him.

“Come on,” Seungkwan enticed casually, not stopping for Hansol. He followed the blonde boy around the side of the house, walking through the small gate (and kindly closing it behind him).

At the back of the house, beyond the garden, there was woodland. Seungkwan said it all belonged to his mother, all the way down, all of it. They crossed a small wooden bridge over a running stream, following a dirt-patch under the trees.

Hansol felt like a child, carelessly following Seungkwan through the greenery, hopping over rocks, picking up speed to feel the breeze on his face. No, he had no clue where he was following Seungkwan to, but that didn’t matter. Somehow, Hansol knew he could put his trust in Seungkwan.

“Come on, come on,” Seungkwan encouraged again. 

A small, quiet lake was curtained with lavish trees and growth. Sunlight slipped through the gaps in the tree canopies and hit the lazy ripples. Hansol didn’t think Italy could become any more beautiful.

He took his time to look around, soaking up the elegance. Until he was stood beside Seungkwan, and looking at a light blue campervan among the scene. The bright woodland was growing around the vehicle, pulling it into nature.

“Pretty. Right?” Seungkwan said softly. Hansol felt his eyes on him. He nodded, unable to remove his gaze from the image before him. “It was my father’s. He’d take me to Lake Garda in this, then Crema and Milan. It was like a vacation within a vacation. ...The only time I really got to spend alone with my father.”

“How long has it been sitting here?”

“Oh, ever since I was, like, nine. When Father left. He left it here and told me to visit whenever I miss him.” Seungkwan approached the still vehicle, his back to Hansol.

“Do you miss him now?” Hansol asked tenderly. He couldn’t see the expression on Seungkwan’s face, thus he could only hope that his question wasn’t too sore.

Seungkwan shook his head. “I just wanted to share this with you. I’ve never brought anyone here before. Not even Mingyu.” He stepped inside the camper, parting the beaded curtain and leaving it open for Hansol to come through. Rather under his breath, Hansol thanked him as he entered.

The interior was delightfully inviting. To the right, there was a bed only just large enough to hold two bodies. It was against the back of the camper, where the window looked out onto the lake. There were dreamcatchers and small plants and twinkling ornaments, books stacked on a small shelf close to the bed, with candles. The floor was layered with patterned rugs, plush under Hansol’s feet. He copied Seungkwan and took off his shoes. It was warm with sunlight in here.

Hansol stood near the door like an apprehensive houseguest. He watched Seungkwan let his back fall onto the bed as a sigh fell from his lips.

“You gonna stand there all day?” Seungkwan asked, not even lifting his head. Hansol took that as an invite to come and sit beside the blonde boy. He didn’t lay back like Seungkwan - instead, he simply sat down on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap and shuffling his feet, looking around.

When he looked back at Seungkwan, the tranquillity on his face eased him. The boy had his eyes closed and the sun on his face from the small window behind. Hansol wondered what he was thinking about.

“Today was fun, huh. I’m glad you came to me for a tour,” Seungkwan chuckled softly.

“Yeah. I’m sure there’ll be a lot of days like this.” Hansol tipped his head back and ran a hand through his thick hair.

“You think so?”

“_Um-hum_,” he hummed, too relaxed to say anything.

“I hope so,” Seungkwan whispered after him. 

Hansol smiled to himself. Seungkwan had said it quietly, almost to himself, but Hansol heard him. And he couldn’t help but smile. He took those three words as a compliment.

“...So, what d’you get up to here?” he asked after the silence. The shifting of conversation and thought.

“Mostly reading. And napping. Just what I do back at the house, except it’s always nicer here. The lake is nice here too. Way better than the lake you were at last night.”

“Sounds nice,” Hansol hummed as he toyed with the slim, silver chain necklace that had been tucked under his shirt, cool on his skin.

Birdsongs and cicadas filled in the thick of silence between the two. Hansol let himself get more comfortable, and slid further onto the bed, resting his back on the pillows. Seungkwan remained on his back, beside him.

Hansol had last night on his mind, now that Seungkwan had brought it up. He had been tenser than anything; already tired from the flight, he was then brought along to a party with a majority of people he didn’t know, and couldn’t get to know because of the blighted language barrier. To have seen Seungkwan, under the willow tree, was quite a satisfaction, a relief. He could never forget that feeling when Seungkwan had caught his gaze. When a sense of comfort had poured over him.

“You should paint something.”

“Paint something?”

“Yeah, on the camper. Wouldn’t it look cool?”

Right now, the campervan was nothing but a light blue, decorated in green overgrowth. Did Seungkwan really trust him to alter such a pretty image?

“Yeah, I guess it would-”

“Come on!” Seungkwan shot up from the bed, springing to his feet. He held out a hand for Hansol to take. Hansol took it to lift himself up, and Seungkwan kept his grip as they stepped out the camper to grab his paints. Up to where they’d dropped their bikes outside, Seungkwan kept Hansol’s hand in his.

“Oh. No paintbrush,” Hansol uttered as he raked through the plastic bag of paint tubes. He peered over his shoulder, up at Seungkwan. The curve in his lips fell. So did Hansol’s heart.

“Aw. I was excited to see you paint,” he murmured through a small pout.

Hansol couldn’t stand to witness the disappointment on Seungkwan’s face. So, he used his fingers to paint. It was something he’d tried before - finger-painting - just not on the body of a vehicle. He only used a little paint, dipping his fingertip into the colours and dabbing and swiping. Seungkwan’s smile had sprung back to his face and he stepped back inside to bring out a small radio, choosing a station and leaving it on the doorway. Hansol could hear Seungkwan behind him as he sang along quietly to _Love My Way._

_Gentle voice._

“You can sing,” Hansol said with his back to Seungkwan. 

“You think so?” He could hear the little smile on Seungkwan’s lips when he spoke. It made him smile too. “I took piano lessons and viola, but never singing.”

“Viola?!”

“Yup.” Seungkwan scoffed, “It didn’t last long. Only four lessons.”

“...Do you have a nice home, back in Jeju?” Hansol was beginning to pick up on the differences between him and Seungkwan. One of those being luxury.

“Not as nice as here,” Seungkwan said, and his voice grew closer. Hansol felt his body close and saw his shadow cast upon the camper. He looked to the side to see Seungkwan staring at his painting. He’d painted a vine of flowers along the side, choosing the colours that went well with the pale blue.

“What about you?” Seungkwan asked lightly. Hansol could feel his gaze set on him now. He dabbed more pink onto the last flower and thought about his answer. Hansol lived in a small apartment with his father and sister amidst the noisy streets of New York. It was probably nothing like Seungkwan’s home in Jeju.

“Yeah, same. Not as nice as here.”

“This is pretty, Hansol, really,” Seungkwan enthused, stepping back. Hansol stepped back with him. “Now you’ve signed yourself here. Forever.”

Hansol looked down at his colourful hands where the paint was drying on his skin. “I guess you could say that.”

“Where do you get this from?” Seungkwan reached out to run his fingertip over where the paint had already dried on the back of Hansol’s hand. Hansol watched Seungkwan’s finger move along his skin.

“My mom. She used to paint. I still have all of her artwork before she passed.” Hansol didn’t bring up his mom unless he had to. He disliked the unease it brought when the other person worked out that she was gone. Because he didn’t feel that unease anymore - he didn’t want anyone else to.

But Seungkwan seemed to respond differently. There was no, _oh I’m sorry_, or,_ I didn’t know_.

There was just a sincere smile. And a comforting squeeze on his hand.

They stayed a little longer, resting on the grass. Hansol dipped his hands in the lake to rid some of the paint. But oil paints were always tough, so his skin was still lightly stained. They sat under the sun, Seungkwan playing with a reed, pulling off the seeds. Hansol watched them drift away in the hot air, before Seungkwan picked another and did the same.

“You shouldn’t have told me you burn easily, Sol, because now I’ll always harass you, make sure you haven’t forgotten your sunscreen.”

_Sol. _Hansol smiled.

He didn’t mind if Seungkwan nagged him the whole summer about sunscreen. Hansol didn’t exactly mind a lot of things.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, then, Kwan.”

Later on, Seungkwan came back with Hansol, to Mingyu’s, instead of going home. Hansol noticed the blue Fiat Spider that was parked with the roof down, and he figured that Mingyu and Wonwoo must have returned.

“Have you met Minghao before?” he asked Seungkwan as they set their bikes beside the front door.

Seungkwan shook his head. “Nope,” he answered whilst Hansol took the lead walking up the steps. He opened the door and held it for Seungkwan to enter first.

Inside, there was nobody. Although there was new luggage that sat at the bottom of the staircase. Hansol suspected this was all Minghao’s. There was a fairly large suitcase and what seemed to be some kind of designer duffle bag. Valentino. Even from the luggage, Minghao seemed chic. Hansol wouldn’t call himself chic. He had his own style that he was happy with.

“I think they’re out back,” Seungkwan said quietly and started to walk down the hallway to the kitchen. Just like last night. Through the dining area, the back doors were wedged open as they stepped outside into the backyard, only to be greeted loudly by Mingyu who threw his arms open.

“Hansol! Seungkwan!” he cheered and climbed out of the pool, water falling from the arcs of his shoulders and onto the stone ledge lining the small pool. Hansol approached with Seungkwan, and Mingyu came closer with a beaming smile on his face.

“Come meet Minghao!” He looked back over his shoulder to call, “Minghao, come meet Hansol and Seungkwan!”

Hansol shifted his gaze to the new guy in the pool who swam his way to the ledge to push himself out. His light brown hair was damp at the ends and he ran his hands through the front. It was the first thing Hansol noticed: his small mullet that he suited so well. He strolled over and lifted a slender hand to wave nonchalantly. He was slim, almost like Wonwoo, which was nothing like Mingyu. And his lips were naturally downturned to make him look rather gloomy. Yet the friendliness in his smile picked up the brightness, and it was clear he wasn’t as unapproachable as he seemed at first glance.

The boy bowed slightly and glanced between Hansol and Seungkwan as he introduced himself in Korean. Hansol picked up on the thick Chinese accent, which only charmingly added to his interesting character. He had a soft face with sharp eyes behind the lengthy bangs. He was all very mysterious.

Mingyu went into the kitchen with Wonwoo to prepare dinner. So, Seungkwan said he’d stay this evening to eat here. He left Hansol to chat with Jisoo who was in the hammock. Hansol wondered if he’d been there all day.

He sat on the edge of the pool and, after taking off his shoes and socks, dipped his legs into the warm water. As he swung his feet under the heaviness of the water, he talked to Minghao, who’d gotten back into the pool. Minghao rested his elbows on the edge and looked up at Hansol as they spoke.

“Jisoo hyung told me you’re travelling around Europe for your art project?” Hansol brought up. He was intrigued and wanted to delve deeper into getting to know about Minghao’s artistry.

Minghao nodded slowly and hummed in approval. “It’s not important or anything, really. I just wanna fill my sketchbook with illustrations of the people I meet along the way. I’m hoping to fill the entire thing. I want to get to know strangers, how they live in other countries,” he explained so calmly.

Hansol hadn’t even seen his work, but he could already sense an admiration for him.

“Mingyu mentioned you paint, actually. We should share our tricks some time. Artist to artist,” Minghao offered with a friendly wink and smile.

“I’d love that.” Hansol returned the smile.

He spent the evening with Minghao on the grass. Watching the older boy sketch. A simple black pen was all Minghao had in his hand, which was quite a shock. Ink was always nerve-wracking to work with for Hansol. Minghao didn’t even sketch any guidelines beforehand - he jumped straight into creating the expression he wanted.

In terms of creating, Minghao was completely free and okay with himself, just like he seemed to be with every other aspect of life.

He slipped free a clean page and picked up his trusty pen. “Don’t worry about not keeping still enough,” he said. Hansol, who was sitting across from him with his legs crossed, asked what he was talking about. “I’m going to draw you, if that’s okay. You have a face I’d love to depict. You’ll be my first face for the sketchbook.” 

Hansol didn’t mind at all. In fact, he happily let Minghao do his thing.

“Where do you want me to look?” he asked, completely unsure about how to model for somebody. Usually, Hansol avoided any spotlight, so this felt rather unnatural for him.

“Look at something you find impossible to look away from,” Minghao explained as he already began to sketch.

_Something you find impossible to look away from... _

Hansol’s gaze naturally fell upon the boy across the garden. He looked to be napping in the hammock that Jisoo had now left, taking his books with him, leaving the blonde boy to sleep in the shade. Seungkwan was swinging softly in the fabric tied to the trees.

Hansol wondered what he dreamt about...

The minutes passed by as Minghao drew him. Hansol flitted his gaze between Seungkwan and the glistening leaves of the tree above him. He listened to Minghao’s pen as it scratched against the thick paper.

It was easier to relax when Minghao made conversation with him, getting to know him more. Hansol just had to talk to him without shifting his body.

When the pen stopped for good, he moved his neck to glance down at the sketchbook, and then up at Minghao who eyed his work with a satisfied grin. He had a right to be pleased. He handed Hansol the sketchbook so he could take a look for himself.

It looked like him, it really did look just like him. Hansol traced his finger over the pen that would forever be etched onto this page, his face that would forever be in this book until Minghao perhaps chose to one day throw it away, or burn it, or sell it, maybe. Either way, it made Hansol feel rather special, to be part of Minghao’s artwork, amongst the many other people he was to meet throughout the summer.

Mingyu had cooked up something light to eat. And after that, Seungkwan said he’d better head home. Hansol was running his plate under the tap when Mingyu walked Seungkwan to the front door. He twisted the faucet handle to stop the water, and managed to hear the muffled voices down the hallway. No, he couldn’t decipher what they were saying, but by the hushed tone, it seemed like it wasn’t intended for anyone else’s ears. So Hansol dried his plate and stepped out into the backyard again.

“Hey, Hansol?” Minghao approached him from the large and round, wooden garden table where they’d eaten. There was a cigarette that hung between Minghao’s long fingers and his eyes were tired now. “Could you show me where I’ll be sleeping?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Ah, thanks,” Minghao sighed. He turned to put his cigarette out in the glass ashtray on the table, and then follow Hansol inside. 

Hansol knew that there was one spare bedroom left, and so he guessed that this was for Minghao. He’d walked past Mingyu in the hallway, who was now on the phone to somebody, talking quietly.

There was a smaller staircase upstairs that took them up to the loft bedroom, where Minghao would settle into. Mingyu had shown it to Hansol when he’d arrived - he’d given him an entire, in-depth tour of the house. The loft bedroom was rather small, with the classic sloping ceiling with a window to look at the sky. Most of the interior was wooden and it was snug. Minghao dropped his things onto the double bed at the end of the room, so Hansol copied.

“I could get used to this,” Minghao chuckled and sat on the end of the bed.

“Yeah. It’s pretty dope.”

Hansol left Minghao to sort himself out; it seemed like he wanted to get some rest now. Mingyu was still on the phone when he came downstairs. So, he made his way into the living room where Jisoo and Wonwoo were. He didn’t want to seem like he was hanging around to listen to Mingyu’s conversation.

As they watched some Italian, late-night game show, Hansol found himself dozing off. It was hard to play along with the contestants when everything was in Italian. He’d made himself quite comfortable on the couch with Jisoo, resting his elbow on the arm of the furniture as he slackly held his face in his hand. Heavy eyelids drooping and body slouching.

“Did you get those paints, Hansol?” Hansol opened his eyes at Jisoo’s voice from where he sat on the other end of the sofa.

“Yeah, I took them upstairs,” he mumbled a reply, chin slipping from his palm.

“Ah, good.”

Hansol momentarily closed his eyes again.

“Hyung,” Wonwoo spoke up from the armchair near the fireplace that wasn’t burning. Hansol didn’t expect to see any flames from there at all during his stay. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Wonwoo asked, eyes focused on the small television screen, brows furrowed.

Jisoo replied, “yeah, a little, actually. He just answered a question about the French Revolution.”

“Show off.”

At some point, Hansol had fallen asleep, close beside Jisoo. He’d drifted off to the voices around him that slowly faded as he fell deeper into sleep.

He woke up an hour or so later, still on the sofa, but with his head on Jisoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo was gone - presumably to his own bed. Hansol didn’t move for a short moment. He kept his head on Jisoo, and his drowsy eyes on the television that was on a completely different show now.

“You must’ve been tired,” Jisoo said softly, tilting his head slightly to look down at Hansol. Hansol lifted his head from Jisoo’s shoulder and rubbed his face with his hands.

“You should’ve woken me up, hyung. I wouldn’t have minded,” Hansol croaked. He didn’t like that he’d kept Jisoo.

Jisoo flashed him that kind smile of his. “It’s alright, man.” He rubbed Hansol’s shoulder with a reassuring glint in his eye. “I’m glad you were comfortable.”

Hansol dipped his head to look at his hands in his lap. “I wasn’t snoring, was I?”

“No, actually. You’re a quiet sleeper. Not like Mingyu,” Jisoo chuckled. Hansol smiled. “No, but, how did you find today? I assumed you did something else other than buy paints, since you were out so long.” Hansol found it heartwarming that Jisoo seemed so interested in what he got up to. 

“It was nice. Pretty chill. Seungkwan just showed me ‘round and we got to know each other some more.” Hansol kept the end of the day, at the campervan, to himself. Himself and Seungkwan.

“Yeah, I chatted with him this evening, actually. Said he really enjoyed spending time with you.”

Hansol didn’t say anything. Perhaps it was because he didn’t know what to say to that. Perhaps it was because he wanted to hear more from Jisoo.

“I’ve been thinking about Aristophanes,” he said eventually. Jisoo looked at him. “You didn’t tell me. What happens when a half meets their own?” Jisoo had never finished the theory he’d been reading in the garden this afternoon. Hansol was burning to know more.

Jisoo paused for a moment, nipping his bottom lip between his teeth. He seemed lost in thought.

He recited, “and so, when a person meets the half that is his very own, whatever his orientation, whether it’s to young men or not, then something wonderful happens: the two are struck from their senses by love, by a sense of belonging to one another, and by desire. And they don’t want to be separated from one another, not even for a moment.”


	4. Seeking Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZNyoXkQX-E&t=252s) was so much fun to listen to whilst I worked on the disco scene :) you can see where I got my inspo from hehe~
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/peachkwan1)

“...I step into the sun where they hold me. Wrath, no longer a part of me, I will move on. I cut my teeth on him and he showed me. God needs me to forgive; this is my path. We are free.”

Jinseol closed the book.

It was always lazy afternoons like this always when Jinseol would pick out one of Mother’s poetry books and read to her little brother who rested his head in her lap. Seungkwan absolutely loved it - his sister’s lulling voice and his mother’s tender words.

“I don’t get that one,” he spoke up. “I never have.” He closed his eyes when Jinseol began to run her fingers through his locks. It urged a drowsy weight to his eyelids.

“Who said you’re supposed to ‘get’ everything, huh? Just accept the words for what they are,” Jinseol responded in a laid-back manner—it made her sound like Sojeong.

Seungkwan had always been inquisitive and sometimes prying, even. Especially when it came to the words on a page. He could read a poem and spend the entirety of his day with the phrases on his mind, trying his best to grasp a concept or understanding. Religion alike, he demanded definite answers and solutions, rather than a succession of extended questions.

“I wanna know. I like to know,” he muttered through a pout, staring up at his sister who was focused on movement out in the hallway. They were sitting in the living room, taking up most of the vintage sofa close to the old, grand piano. All of the windows were open, and Seungkwan could hear his mother twittering with her guests in the backyard, along with Sojeong who played catch with her friends closeby.

Jinseol used her other hand to grab Seungkwan’s cheeks and squeeze them together, only making his lips poutier. He frowned. “You can’t know everything, Boo,” she said with a light chuckle, clearly amused that Seungkwan thought he _could _know everything.

He loosely took his sister’s wrist and pulled her hand from his face. “When will you stop doing that? I’m eighteen now! I’m not a baby.” It was something his sisters and his mother had always done, grab his cheeks.

Jinseol just smiled. “You’ll always be a baby to me. Maybe not even to our mother - but always to me.” Seungkwan was surprised by Jinseol’s loving nature today. It was a rare side to her, as the eldest, the most responsible. Though he didn’t bring it up; he knew that would only abash her. Instead, he took it quietly and thankfully.

Sitting up, he felt Jinseol’s hand leave his hair. He sat shoulder to shoulder with her. She’d placed Mother’s book on the arm of the sofa - must be tired of reading for today. She had read a significance to Seungkwan, but he never wanted her to stop; his sister had such a comforting voice. It always brought him home.

“I don’t want you to go back to university, noona…” he almost whispered, eyes fixed upon a vast painting on the far wall. It was a painting of a spring treeline, vivid and fresh.

“What are you talking about? We have all summer together, silly,” Jinseol tried to console, nudging her brother gently with her shoulder. As much as Jinseol could act like another mother to Seungkwan and sometimes Sojeong, he appreciated the time he’d spend with her here, because he hardly saw her at home. Jinseol studied at a university in Seoul so she was always away. She wanted to become a lawyer - Seungkwan had no idea why - but she seemed passionate enough about it. At least one of them had their goals set.

“You need to stop loving us so much - your sister and I. If you really are eighteen. If you really aren’t a baby, hm,” she spoke with a kind tone, holding a warm gaze. Despite what she was asking of her affectionate brother.

It struck him. _Stop _loving his sisters so much? Seungkwan had a copious amount of affection in his heart, and his family was the only place he could offer it.

“How do I…”

“Find someone else to rely on,” Jinseol said with a level-headed timbre as she shifted to meet Seungkwan’s eyes. “Someone who will _always _be there for you. Like a best friend, or… y’know.”

“Do you have someone?” Seungkwan asked, rather boldly. He didn’t know much at all about his sister’s relationships and friendships since she was so far away, the majority of the time. Distant.

Jinseol snorted. It looked as if she was going to answer until Sojeong made herself known at the doorway to the patio, “Unnie, Mother wants you,” she droned, “to, you know, talk.”

Jinseol was the front for her siblings. Mother relied on the achievements and success of her eldest daughter to showcase the brilliance of her family to friends and houseguests, whether it was here in Italy or back home. Seungkwan didn’t mind it, and neither did Sojeong. Understandably, Jinseol minded the most.

He watched his sisters disappear and seconds later, heard the chorus of pleased welcoming’s for Jinseol. He could imagine the polite smile she’d have on her lips and bowing kindly, kissing the cheeks of other guests.

Seungkwan put mother’s book away in the study room upstairs; she’d hate to see it out of place partly because that book was her first one, the one she’d rather not revisit. The study room wasn’t used much unless his mother had to work, but then again, she rather enjoyed working out in the sun. Seungkwan came here often to look through the magnificent bookshelf that was built into the back wall, going over the novels, plays, poetry. Why, yes, after several years of doing so, he’d gone through almost everything on the shelves, but he liked to revisit each year.

Reading replenished him.

He didn’t pick up a book today, however. He closed the door behind him and made his way to the rich green loveseat against one of the open windows. There, he laid down on his side and let his eyes close. The birds were singing sweet songs this afternoon. Just like they had been on Saturday, when he and Hansol had ridden back from town through the countryside.

Seungkwan had never felt more relied on than he did that day; Hansol truly needed him. When he found Hansol in his room after showering, he was oddly pleased. Obliged to show him around town.

Seungkwan made sure that he’d shown Hansol _his_ places. The places he visited often for errands or for entertainment. He wanted to share his _own _Verona with Hansol. Because he trusted Hansol, even upon their second encountering, Seungkwan trusted in him. He had even said it that day when they walked their bikes beside each other: Hansol had calming ease about him. It was through Hansol’s drifting low voice, his optimism and warmness, how he moved at his own pace, how he listened intently to whatever Seungkwan had to say - that was what soothed him.

And with Hansol earning Seungkwan’s trust, he wanted to share his special secret with him. He knew that Hansol would appreciate the campervan and its significance to Seungkwan’s heart. And he was eternally grateful.

It was nice to spend time with somebody his age - somebody who was so understanding and relatable.

Sunday was no different than the Sundays at home: he went to morning service with his mother and sisters. There was a nice, small church in town that his mother adored. It was quaint and homely, not too busy. The old ladies would kiss Seungkwan on the forehead and always exclaim at how tall he’d grown since last year, and how handsome he was getting. They greeted his sisters and mother just as warmly.

Usually, Seungkwan would stay through the first half of the service, singing the hymns and listening to the passageways and the story for today, reciting the Lord’s prayer with the others. He was always complimented for his voice when they sang, the elders would tell him, he had the voice of an angel. It seemed like a stretch, in his opinion, but he accepted their compliments kindly.

For the second half of the service, Seungkwan would join one of the mothers, and take the kids into the back for Sunday school. The second half was usually when the little ones became restless, so it all worked out. It was a small group of children, perhaps five or six of them, all willing to listen and learn about God. Seungkwan used to take part in the Sunday school here until he was around fourteen. But he was glad to guide the younger ones.

The woman who usually ran the sessions was called Elena, a mother of one of the boys in the group. She was a teacher in a local school, so she knew what she was doing. Seungkwan simply provided assistance. He’d go into the small kitchen and prepare juice and snacks for the little ones whilst they listened attentively to Elena, or sometimes a videotape, a cartoon on a Bible story.

“Kwan!” That was what the kids called him. He figured that the only reason they seemed to love him so much was that he handed out the snacks and sang them songs.

After the session, he spent some time with Sojeong. Jinseol and his mother had headed home, but Sojeong wanted to talk with Seungkwan. They remained in the piazzetta, walking aimlessly.

“Are you alright today, Seungkwan?” Sojeong asked. Seungkwan had been anticipating this, ever since Sojeong had prompted Jinseol and their mother to go home. Sojeong wanted to catch up on his feelings, and Seungkwan didn’t want to talk.

Seungkwan hesitated. “I’m alright.” They walked leisurely around the fountain. Seungkwan stuck his hands in his pockets and watched the water leap and fall. He thought about the prayers people could’ve wished upon the pennies at the bottom of the fountain.

“I couldn’t hear you singing today,” Sojeong said, eyes on him.

“That’s just because you sing so loud,” Seungkwan joked. Yet he was partly right. Although occasionally off-key, Sojeong _always _sang passionately.

He trailed his hand along the railing of the fountain as they went around. A blue coach came into the square, hissing as it stopped, old folk stepping off and chattering distantly.

When they’d made a full circle around the fountain, they stopped. Seungkwan leaned over the railing to count the pennies in the water. He could hear his sister light a cigarette.

“...Noona.”

“_Hm_?”

“Have you always had faith?” Eleven coins, he counted so far.

Sojeong paused. As if she was dissecting Seungkwan’s question. He counted thirteen more pennies.

She sighed, and Seungkwan could smell the smoke. “You’re the only one I’d tell this to, Seungkwan. But no. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever wholly had faith.” Seungkwan stopped counting. He could feel the sun warming his back as he kept his focus on the old fountain.

Strange, he wasn’t completely shocked to hear this from Sojeong.

“How do you… face that?” He finally turned his back on the fountain. Sojeong was pacing slowly from left to right, watching the blue coach leave the square now, hissing again. She brought the cigarette up to her lips and sucked.

Then blew out. “I tell myself it's for Mother. I go to church for her, rather than Him.” She stopped, and looked at Seungkwan. A smile emerged. “Anyway, church is over for today. Lunch?”

Sojeong chose a small cafe where they sat on one of the tables just outside, watching the idle Sunday drift by. Sojeong would usually do this with her friends, so Seungkwan found it sweet that it was with him this time.

He rested his bare arms on the tablecloth of the small, round table. There was no umbrella or awning to hide them from the sun, but he felt like enjoying the heat today. He decided to order a Caprese salad, something light to keep him cool enough. Sojeong had some kind of pasta, Seungkwan hadn’t paid attention to what, but it seemed like a large portion. She was always the biggest lover of food in the family.

He ate slowly and listened to his sister ramble about the drama that had occurred over the mere _two _days that they’d been back here.

“...It’s all so petty, I think. But anyway, Camilla mentioned she found one of the American’s cute, at the party. I can’t remember which one. You know, Mingyu’s friends.”

Seungkwan stopped chewing and lifted his head to look at his sister across from him. “You mean Jisoo and Hansol?”

“Hansol, yeah!” she exclaimed before taking another mouthful. Seungkwan waited for her to finish chewing and swallowing. “You think he’d like Camilla? I’m seeing her later on.”

Seungkwan shrugged and looked down at his food again. “I dunno, noona. I’ve only known him since Friday night. But Hansol can hardly speak Italian, and Camilla isn’t wonderful at English, is she?” Seungkwan didn’t mean to come across so strongly. He checked his sister’s expression, to make sure he hadn’t insulted her with his sharp undertone.

“Oh, can’t he...? Oh…”

Within the villa’s backyard, Seungkwan would always play volleyball, or tennis with Mingyu. He was never any good at it like Mingyu was, but it was genuine fun - until Mingyu grew competitive. Although volleyball was different this time, on this very hot Tuesday afternoon, because he had Wonwoo and Jisoo on his side of the net, and Mingyu had Hansol and Minghao on his.

The afternoon was bright and humid - one by one, shirts were discarded onto the grass. Sojeong’s friends were over and came to sit in the backyard too, most likely admiring the rippling of Mingyu’s back muscles whenever he hit the ball with might.

Seungkwan was actually putting a lot of his effort into this game. He watched the white ball in the sky blue as it fell on his side, and he lunged forward to hit it back over. There was a smile on his face when Hansol failed to hit it back, awarding his side a point. He spun to Jisoo behind him and shared an enthusiastic high-five.

There were often times during the game when he found himself looking away from the ball - more specifically, across the net, to Hansol. To olive skin that gleamed with a gloss of sweat, torso glistening in the sunlight; jaw slack and a grunt leaving his mouth whenever he hit the ball with his firm hands. Seungkwan didn’t look for long, only enough to not miss the ball when it returned to his side.

With a huff, he gave the ball a solid hit. He was letting this get the better of him. It was days like today when he was forced to acknowledge it. His developing attraction.

When Seungkwan had started to lose interest in the game, because of his… frustration, his effort melted away as quickly as ice under heat. Wonwoo must’ve begun to notice because he mentioned to Seungkwan more than once that ‘he felt like he was pulling his weight now.’ Seungkwan could only scowl when Wonwoo turned his back again.

He was just horribly hot and bothered today. Under the sun, breathless from the game, and Hansol’s oblivion that he was hindering Seungkwan’s train of thought. Childish as it was, Seungkwan didn’t want to play anymore. He announced that he needed a break, and so, one of Sojeong’s friends, Camilla actually, took his place.

Greta was washing up in the kitchen. Seungkwan was solely pleased to be in the cool. He dropped a dismal sigh and shuffled around the island counter to reach the cabinet, grabbing a clean glass.

“Don’t make that noise. Why make that noise?” Greta did not sound content that Seungkwan had entered the house so vexed. She’d always disliked seeing Seungkwan troubled.

“I’m just hot, Greta,” he murmured and stood beside her to quickly run his glass under the cold water. “Is there ice?”

“There’s ice.” she glanced over her shoulder to the mini freezer across the kitchen. Seungkwan dug his hand through the bag of ice cubes, briefly relishing the staggering coldness. “Don’t stress, _piccino_.”

“I’m not stressing. I’m just hot-”

An unexpected pair of hands struck down on Seungkwan’s bare shoulders.

“Hey!” Hansol exclaimed in his attempt to shock Seungkwan. Seungkwan whipped around, truly a little startled. He threw his free hand up to his chest, over his pounding heart. There was a playful grin on Hansol’s face. Seungkwan pouted at it.

“I almost spilt my drink,” he grumbled. He wanted to splash the water at Hansol.

“But you didn’t,” Hansol responded, still smiling. “Are you coming back to play?”

Seungkwan shook his head. “The sun’s worn me out, I’m too hot now. I think I’m just gonna chill indoors,” he told Hansol and headed for the hallway.

Hansol followed closely. “Oh, then I’ll keep you company.”

“You’re not gonna play? You’re winning, though.”

Hansol shrugged. So nonchalant.

They cooled off in the attic. It was a part of the old house that only Seungkwan visited. He figured it was the coldest area of the house. There were three, rather low-placed, little windows that granted the light in. But for the most part, it was nicely dark. With rolled-up carpets and an old mattress or two leaned against the white stone wall, and faded, wooden furniture, likely broken or outdated. Seungkwan drew one of the mattresses down, dust whirling into the air as it landed on the wooden floor.

He sat down on it and watched Hansol roam the room, touching everything, investigating, intrigued. Seungkwan gulped the last of his water and took an ice cube in his mouth, before placing the glass to the side.

His heated gaze lingered on Hansol as he swirled and curled his tongue around the ice cube, holding it from cheek to cheek. The chill in his mouth was enticing. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand when it began to melt more, and a small drip had spilt from his mouth.

Hansol had his back turned, looking through a rumpled stack of used and worn books. The ice was rapidly melting within the heat of Seungkwan’s mouth. It was the subtle numbing that it induced on his tongue, the wetness it created in his mouth, the spit, the striking cold, that oddly aroused him. Whilst he studied the sight of Hansol’s naked back, as he wore nothing but denim shorts.

_Seungkwan cursed himself for this._

The ice cube was gone by the time Hansol came to join him on the mattress. He looked at Hansol who sat beside him, awaiting a remark. The spirited shouting and cheering from the backyard, as everybody continued to play volleyball, was what filled the short moment of quiet up here.

“Pretty neat up here, huh,” was all he had to say.

Seungkwan nodded before he stood up. He paced to the centre window and crouched to look out of it, to see the backyard. “They’re so loud,” he chuckled, watching Mingyu and Minghao leap up and down after scoring another point.

“Are you still hot?” Hansol’s voice inquired from the mattress. Seungkwan could hear him shuffling, but he kept his focus out the window.

He shook his head. “I’m pretty cool now- Shit!”

There was suddenly a nipping chill on the dip of his lower back, striking the surface of his warm skin. Instantly, he whipped around to see Hansol beaming with an ice cube held between his fingers. He laughed brightly, his classic wide grin appearing.

He was exceptionally playful today.

Seungkwan massaged his back, where it was damp from the ice, before he went for Hansol. They tussled playfully, grappling each other’s bare arms and hands and shoulders, giggling like boisterous kids. Hansol tried his best to fight with the ice cube, briefly placing it on Seungkwan’s skin before Seungkwan swatted him away and wrestled him to the mattress. The ice melted soon enough and it left Hansol with one damp hand that he shoved in Seungkwan’s face whilst he was pinned beneath him.

“Agh!” Seungkwan sat up, freeing Hansol. He wiped his face and grimaced. “Mean,” he muttered in fun, through a tiny smirk. He gave Hansol one light hit on the chest.

_I won._

All of the roughhousing had ultimately flustered Seungkwan. Being braced over Hansol, even only for an instant, was not exactly helpful for his already lingering, heated frustration. And in turn, it had brought up quite a predicament when he dropped his gaze.

How did one - a young man - hide their erection in such a situation? Seungkwan brought his legs up close to his chest and could only pray.

_He shunned himself silently._

Hansol was rather neutral, naturally, so it was hard for Seungkwan to tell if he’d noticed or not. It was such a sensitive and shameful disturbance, that Seungkwan wanted to thrash his body around on the mattress and groan. Needless to say, he didn’t and carried on talking with Hansol.

“Sojeong’s friends are fun, aren’t they?” Seungkwan brought up. Hansol rested his back on the wall, legs stretched along the mattress. Seungkwan made sure to sit with his side to Hansol, on the edge of the mattress.

_Please, just please don’t look._

“They are.”

“Pretty, too.”

Hansol chuckled, “Yeah, I guess. Are you trying to tell me something? Do you like one of them, huh?”

Seungkwan shook his head sternly. “Do you?” He knew exactly what he was doing. Unable to meet Hansol’s eyes, he focused on the rise and fall of the boy’s stomach as he chuckled again.

“What is it, Seungkwan? Where did this come from?” Hansol hadn’t denied, and perhaps Seungkwan was overthinking, but it disheartened him. He shook his head again.

“Doesn’t matter.” He bit down on his tongue.

Hansol left the attic when it could be heard that the game of volleyball had ended. He told Seungkwan that he’d planned to go into town with Minghao by now. Seungkwan was left alone, and somewhat agitated. Tense.

“_Fuck_,” he breathed and collapsed back onto the mattress. He looked to the doorway where Hansol had left. “_Tease_.”

As it just so happened, Seungkwan found himself sharing a generous amount of his time with Hansol. Something about being in the company of him brought a sense of ease and relief. Because as well as time, Seungkwan also shared more of _himself_ with Hansol – his likes, his dislikes, his opinions, his sentiments, thoughts, dreams, hopes, troubles. He discovered that Hansol was a thoughtful listener, with hazel eyes and the soft curves of his face.

Seungkwan could tell, simply by the way Hansol held his gaze, that his secrets would be safe with him. If he were to ever confess any.

A lot of Seungkwan’s first week back had been down at the campervan, often in the gracious company of Hansol. He cherished the afternoons that were lethargic with sweltering heat, and all they did was share the silence, on their backs in the grass, the sun beating through the gaps in the tree canopies of green glow. For the most part, he’d keep his eyes lightly shut and his ears listening to Hansol’s calm breathing not far beside him, or the distant bird songs and gentle movements of the lake closeby, or the soft breeze that ruffled the grass. But there were moments of, perhaps courage, where Seungkwan would open his eyes and tilt his head to face Hansol. Hansol would still be oblivious, lost in relaxation as Seungkwan would admire his enchantingly serene expression.

Seungkwan mused on the notion of Hansol doing the same when he was unaware. Though he greatly doubted.

When they weren’t stretched out across the grass, they were in the shade of the campervan. Seungkwan didn’t let anyone else know that this place existed, never mind let somebody share it with him. (His family knew, of course, but they also understood that it was his own personal spot, so they never bothered to make an appearance and disturb).

Seungkwan enjoyed sharing this with Hansol. Because Hansol didn’t poke around or ask offhand questions, and he didn’t turn up his nose or frown. No, none of that. Seungkwan had been frightened that Hansol would start to do those things when something caught the boy’s eye one day.

On one of the small, cluttered shelves, there had always been a bottle of baby blue nail polish. Seungkwan couldn’t even remember how old he was when he’d taken it from whichever sister’s dressing table, but he knew he was only a child – a messy, curious child, up for exploration and experimentation. His mother had banished that side of him when it became too much for her. But he still had this bottle.

“Can I?” Hansol simply asked, eyeing the bottle that stared back at him. There was a hint of a smile on his lips and a thrilling glint in his eye.

Truthfully, Seungkwan had almost completely forgotten about it until this moment. And Hansol’s act of bringing it back to his consciousness also pulled in the memories that came along with it. It prompted a shade of shame in his soul that he hadn’t felt since he was a young boy on the end of his mother’s stern, pointing finger, and her words that brought a sting. He brought a hand up to his right earlobe and massaged it fretfully. When he looked to Hansol - their eyes met - there was something there, the warmth, that made the decision for him.

He nodded apprehensively. Hansol smiled.

They were both sitting on the bed and Hansol leaned across Seungkwan’s lap to take the bottle from the shelf. A short-lasting moment, Hansol was close enough for Seungkwan to take in the scent of his warm body. It soothed him down.

They positioned themselves so that they both sat with their legs crossed and facing each other. Seungkwan allowed Hansol to take his left hand and rest it on his knee. He bit the inside of his cheek.

Hansol wore a pair of denim shorts, so Seungkwan could feel nothing but warm skin under his hand. He drove all of his efforts into keeping his fingers from caressing Hansol’s knee. Meanwhile, Hansol was occupied in shaking the bottle and twisting it open. The chemical scent escaped the bottle and with that, faint nostalgia.

Quietly, almost in wonder, he watched as Hansol balanced the bottle beside him in a secure dip in the bedsheets, and lowered the brush in his hand to Seungkwan’s left pinkie. Hansol wasn’t a stranger to painting, Seungkwan knew that, but was he familiar with this kind of painting?

“Have you done this before?” Seungkwan asked, feeling Hansol rest his free hand over the back of his own. He didn’t want to move.

“Mhm, I’ve painted my little sister’s nails a few times,” Hansol responded softly as he focused on stroking the brush over Seungkwan’s nail to coat it in the light blue colour.

But before he could move on, Seungkwan stopped him with his urgent tone and the slight lean forward.

“Don’t paint them all. Just a few… please,” he requested promptly when Hansol looked up at him. It could seem like an odd suggestion, but there was no judgement in Hansol’s features.

As he painted (just a few of) Seungkwan’s nails, he talked about his younger sister, Sofia. Who Seungkwan learned was only twelve-years-old and, charmingly, just as unique as her brother. Hansol spoke fondly of her—Seungkwan caught the smile on his lips when he retold the first time that he tried to paint her nails. He claimed it was such a mess that she cried. Seungkwan laughed, all the while trying his best to keep still under Hansol’s touch. It was endearing that Hansol would do things like this for his sister, and enjoyed doing it.

Hansol finished painting two or three fingers on Seungkwan’s tan hands. “You suit that colour,” he complimented as he reached across to put the bottle back. At Hansol’s sentiment, a warmth spread across Seungkwan’s chest and his cheeks. He lifted his hands to blow gently on the painted fingers – he’d seen Jinseol do this after painting her own nails. It was a way to distract himself from the surge of emotions he felt from Hansol’s words. But Hansol kept going, “You have really pretty hands for it,” he said, quieter this time.

Seungkwan stopped blowing. “My mother says I have girly hands. She doesn’t like it.”

Hansol shrugged. “I think they’re cute. They’re soft too!” he exclaimed, voice rising in pitch. He playfully grabbed Seungkwan’s hands to caress the skin, pretending to be ever so fascinated by the smoothness.

Unable to hide his laughter, Seungkwan snatched his hands away from the boy. “You’re going to ruin my nails!” he scolded through a wide smile.

“Oh, we can’t have that!” Hansol exclaimed, suddenly placing his palms on Seungkwan’s cheeks and doing exactly what his sisters always did to them, pressing them. Seungkwan couldn’t comprehend why it didn’t irritate him like it did with his sisters.

He had almost cried that warm afternoon; Hansol’s gesture had surely moved him. Not at all had he intended on Hansol discovering the small bottle on the shelf, the thing had simply grabbed Hansol’s attention, and he hadn’t shied away from bringing it up. Neither had Seungkwan expected Hansol to react the way he had. But upon the glint in Hansol’s eye, Seungkwan felt okay – slightly embarrassed, but okay.

It was what Seungkwan enjoyed so much about him. Hansol held a deep honesty and truth, and his heart was large and sweet like a perfect mango.

“Don’t be ashamed,” those ripe words of his had stuck with Seungkwan since.

Hansol accepted so many things with open arms, including Seungkwan.

Seungkwan had spent his nights this week lying terribly awake, with eyes open and body stirring. Cicadas shrilling. Sheets on. Sheets off. Mind melting from hot thoughts. Tonight, it was just the same, laying in the encase of deep blue and dim moonlight. He was on his back with palms on his stomach, gazing up at the ceiling.

It took him an awful amount of time to fall asleep. Outside the air was still. Pale moonlight dripped into his bedroom as he’d left the doors to the balcony open. The sheets were soft against his legs, but they were also heavy and hot. His legs slipped in and out the sheets, hooking one leg around the duvet in a messy way to let the night air cool the exposed skin. His breathing was warm and soft against his pillow.

Citrus—the scent found its way into his dreams, the golden sunshine fragrance. His thoughts melted into a state of daisies and chains and it seemed to last for eternity...

...He rose with the sun. Seungkwan woke his body up, arms extending and knuckles touching the wall behind, back arching, tired groans spilling from his lips. He’d usually be the first awake – after ever so diligent Greta. This morning was no different. Her shuffling around the house could be heard. She currently sounded to be in the kitchen, perhaps preparing for breakfast. The early, early mornings were usually fairly cool in the air, so Seungkwan threw a large thin sweater over his head. He let his bare feet take him downstairs. Greta kindly bid him good morning.

He decided to aid Greta in making breakfast – well, as much as he could without her complaining that he was cutting the mango into pieces too large, or toasting the bread far too much. He settled with simply slicing the bananas and kiwis, knife sliding through the softness, his fingers sticky and sweet. When Greta’s back was turned to scramble the eggs, Seungkwan slipped a slice of banana into his mouth. She didn’t suspect a thing.

It took them some time to prepare the food, along with setting the table in the sunny garden, but Seungkwan’s conversation with Greta added at least some motivating aspect. She asked him, who was this new face? This American boy?

“He is very handsome. He smiles at you a lot,” she said nonchalantly as they placed down the shining silverware. Seungkwan shot his eyes up from the other end of the table and looked to the lady who had a little smirk on her thin lips.

“Hansol smiles at everybody,” he dismissed and looked back down at his hands to assort the cutlery into their tidy spaces on the tablecloth. Greta never finished the conversation. She simply passed Seungkwan a closed smile. It was a smile that said, _I hear what you’re saying, but I know I’m right. _Her eyebrows raised and her knowing eyes stared straight into his. She hurried back into the kitchen, leaving Seungkwan alone, beneath the trees, leaning his hip on the table.

When breakfast was ready, Seungkwan’s mother and sisters were already stirring around the house. Greta let Seungkwan ring the large bell beside the staircase, to call for breakfast. It was a large, old thing—Seungkwan wrapped his hand around the short and tattered rope, shaking a couple of times to let it chime and echo.

At the table, colourful with breakfast, he sat beside his mother. This morning, he craved Greek yoghurt with fresh fruit. His sister stretched her arm across the table to pass him a bowl, and he spooned the creamy yoghurt from one of the jars on the table, as well as picking out some of his favourite fruits. He went the ones Greta had taken to cut up herself after his terrible attempt. 

His mother and Jinseol spoke about the company that came over last night. Seungkwan hadn’t seen who was over since he was spending time with Hansol yesterday evening.

“I didn’t even see you come back last night, Seungkwan,” his mother brought up. She was sliding a knife of butter across her toast.

“I stayed out late with Hansol. He wanted to cool off in the lake.”

Then, Sojeong perked up, “Hansol’s sweet. I thought he’d be pretty obnoxious, coming from America,” she spoke through her chews, which their mother frowned at. “You’re going to Lake Garda today, aren’t you?” 

Seungkwan nodded, “Is that still okay?” and looked to his mother. She agreed, but then her eyes dropped to Seungkwan’s hand that held his spoon. She took his hand into her grip to pull it closer to her. Seungkwan seized up under his mother’s hold. He didn’t know what to say, so he looked down at his lap.

Nobody spoke apart from the birds.

Then, his mother sighed. “Go with your sister and wash it off.”

She dropped her head in her hands, looking to be completely put off her breakfast. Seungkwan could feel the burn in his eyes as tears formed. The scrape of Jinseol’s chair on the stone floor and her footsteps ruined the painful quiet, and Seungkwan felt her tap his shoulder lightly behind.

“Come on.”

Seungkwan looked to Sojeong as he stood up from his chair, and she flashed him a sympathetic look. She seemed to be the only one.

He followed Jinseol back through the kitchen and into the hallway, to travel up the staircase. All the while, keeping quiet and swallowing his upset.

“I thought this had stopped, this… phase,” Jinseol huffed, leading Seungkwan to her bedroom. Sometimes Jinseol was too much like their mother.

“It has,” Seungkwan mumbled.

“Yes, evidently.”

He sat on the end of her bed and watched her disappear into the bathroom that separated her from Sojeong’s room. She returned with a bottle of nail polish remover and a handful of cotton pads.

Seungkwan didn’t cry as his sister scrubbed at his nails, he just sat quietly with the tears sitting in his eyes. He looked at his hands through the glazed sight as Jinseol wiped the pretty blue colour away with a soaked cotton pad.

“I didn’t mean to-to disappoint her, noona- or offend her,” his voice was small, almost a whisper. The harsh scent of the polish remover stung his nose and his fingers felt so uncomfortable from the substance. Cold.

“But you know what our mother thinks, Seungkwan,” Jinseol replied, “about this stuff.”

“I know, but—"

“It’s best you just don’t,” she said in a sterner tone and scrubbed harder at Seungkwan’s nail beds.

If it had been Sojeong, she would probably tell him something like, _You have very pretty hands anyway, Seungkwan. You don’t need this stuff._

But this was Jinseol.

“How did you even…” she tossed out a sigh, “...just, don’t do it again.” She finished wiping the colour away and stood up. “Go wash your hands. And don’t bite your nails; they probably won’t taste very nice now.”

Seungkwan couldn’t spare any time to mope around; he occupied his mind in preparing for the trip today. He’d visited Lake Garda plenty of times, but knew the likes of Wonwoo and Jisoo who were desperate to see what it was like. Mingyu had eagerly told him the plan for today over the phone. And after showering, he changed into a blue shirt and floral trunks, and rode his bike to Mingyu’s, with his backpack slung over his shoulder and sunglasses hooked on the neckline of his shirt.

The late morning air was still warming up on his way. He pedalled slowly, not wanting to work up a sweat. He stopped cycling when he reached the low, wooden fence, closing it behind him. The sound of the distant cows and goats told Seungkwan he was most definitely at Mingyu’s.

“Morning.” Seungkwan bid back to Minghao, offering a hand with emptying the car that belonged to the farmer. Mingyu had mentioned that Florenzo had been kind enough to let them borrow his car, seeing as they wouldn’t all fit in Mingyu’s. The old thing was full of rusting tools like rakes and shovels. Minghao told him to set them down on the bench at the front of the house.

“Have you settled in?” Seungkwan asked him brightly. He watched Minghao smile.

“Yeah, quickly, actually. I could just stay here,” he chuckled, carrying the last spade to the bench.

“You’re welcome to,” Mingyu voiced up as he stepped out of the house, Wonwoo on his tail. Seungkwan gave them a smile and a short hug for Mingyu. Hansol soon followed, and then Jisoo.

Mingyu took the driver’s seat in his car, with Wonwoo in the passenger and Minghao in the back. Seungkwan followed Hansol to the back of Florenzo’s car, where Jisoo would be driving. It was a compact car, Seungkwan sat very closely beside Hansol, but he managed to strap himself in just fine. Hansol was fidgeting, on the other hand.

“Seungkwan,” he said. His two fingertips tapped on Seungkwan’s lap, so Seungkwan looked at him. “Could you lift up for a sec?” he asked ever so tenderly. Seungkwan used his hands to push his behind up, off the car seat. He heard Hansol mutter a thank you as he searched for the buckle to his seatbelt.

Jisoo had started the car now, seeing as Mingyu had already left. The jolt as the vehicle began to move brought Seungkwan to lose his balance, and he fell back down, Hansol’s hand still beneath him.

He immediately shot back up. “I- Sorry,” he muttered through a forced chuckle, cheeks warming up.

“No worries,” said Hansol, unshaken. There was a click as he buckled in. Seungkwan watched him lean back and take the headphones from around his neck, to place them over his ears. His eyes followed down the wire where they were plugged into the Walkman that was stuffed into the pocket of his blue trunks. Seungkwan was awfully curious as to what Hansol was listening to.

One’s music taste told a lot about them.

In the corner of his eye, Hansol must’ve caught Seungkwan’s ogling, and he lifted the speaker from his right ear.

“Wanna listen?”

“What is it?”

“Prince.”

A smile sprung to Seungkwan’s mouth and he hastily leaned across, closer to Hansol, taking the right speaker of Hansol’s headphones and holding it up to his own ear. Seungkwan was a subtle lover of Prince. In that way, he absolutely adored him - his fluidity in gender, his discomfort with the expectations of masculinity, and his bravery to drop them. Truly inspiring.

“I really love Prince,” Seungkwan told Hansol. Little did Hansol know, he was the first person to hear that.

He looked at Seungkwan with a tender closed smile. “Me too.” Their faces were close like this, sharing the music.

He only listened to one song before leaning back into his own seat again, shifting his focus to outside the car window. Despite Jisoo having rolled down both windows in the front, Seungkwan put his own down, so the breeze could cool the pink in his cheeks. There was still a flush in his complexion after he’d accidentally dropped his ass onto Hansol’s hand...

Hansol was quiet for the journey. Seungkwan delighted in listening to his leg bounce to the music that Seungkwan could hear just leaking out of his headphones. Every time he glanced across, Hansol was lost in his own world. Seungkwan wanted to see that world - was he a part of it?

“We haven’t spent much time with each other, have we Seungkwan?” Jisoo perked up, his hush voice just managed to make itself heard by Seungkwan, over the rumble of the car and the breeze that whipped past through their hair. “I feel like I hardly know you.”

Seungkwan leaned forward to rest his hands on the back of the empty passenger seat, so he could speak more closely to Jisoo. “We can get to know each other today. You take philosophy, right? I can’t remember if that was you or Wonwoo.”

“Yeah, I do. You?”

“I’ve read a book or two.”

Seungkwan agreed to chat with Jisoo today, perhaps about philosophy. A part of him was looking forward to simply listening to that honey tone in Jisoo’s voice.

When they arrived, Mingyu and the others were waiting in the parking lot. Mingyu sat on the car bonnet with, already, a cigarette between his fingers. Wonwoo was close, and Minghao was hidden behind the open boot of the car. Jisoo parked closeby.

“What took you so long, hyung?!” Mingyu hollered, outstretching his arms under the golden sun.

“I didn’t take long, you were just driving like it was a racetrack!” Jisoo bit back as they walked past the other parked cars. “Like always…” Seungkwan managed to catch Jisoo’s comment under his breath, and he smiled to himself. He’d discovered a spark of cheek in Jisoo.

Mingyu slid off the car and dropped his cigarette on the floor, to then squash it beneath his Converse. Seungkwan flung his wrist to bat away the smoke that’d come from Mingyu’s final puff. Jisoo carried on his conversation with Mingyu. As for Hansol, Seungkwan watched the boy - still wearing his headphones - stroll to the back of the car, to chat with Minghao.

Hansol ended up helping Minghao take everything down - the parasol, the chairs and bag of drinks and snacks. Seungkwan ended up following behind them. And laughing at Hansol when he tripped over his own feet, almost tumbling over.

Along the shores of Lake Garda, there were some fairly nice beaches, with usually pebbly ground, hardly sandy. The beach that Mingyu took them to, at _Punta San Vigilio_, was mostly pebbles, which Seungkwan didn’t mind at all - it wasn’t where he used to visit with his father, so it was new. The beach was sweetly named _Baia delle Sirene_. The water was astonishingly clear here. Mingyu took his shirt off as soon as they were down the steps. Of course, he did, that boy, he’d take any chance he could get to showcase his body.

The day was tropical with the heat. Whilst everyone cooled off in the lake, Seungkwan took shade beneath the line of trees a little further back. He watched the boys splash one another with big smiles on their faces. His side rested onto the trunk of one of the thick trees, stood beside a little round table and chairs. Not far, he heard Wonwoo exclaim, and he brought his attention to the water where Mingyu was spinning with his arms outstretched, creating an uproar of waves, targeted to Wonwoo. Despite what looked like his pleading for Mingyu to stop, Wonwoo seemed to enjoy it. Mingyu was able to bring Wonwoo out of his shell - his true self always shone around Mingyu.

Shortly after, Mingyu came out of the water and Seungkwan watched him approach.

“You not gonna join?” he asked. “They're asking for you. Well, Hansol and Minghao were.”

“In time,” Seungkwan answered, eyes glued to the far mountains that surrounded the enormous body of water. He was almost lost in the scene, only half of his attention on Mingyu who stood beside him.

“Hansol really likes spending time with you, doesn’t he? He's fond of you.”

“We get along, I think.”

“What about the others?”

“You don’t have to worry, hyung. I like your friends,” Seungkwan reassured Mingyu, and his eyes landed on Wonwoo who was chatting with Minghao in the water. “Well, Wonwoo- I- I don’t know. Just, we spoke on the first night, and that was it, really. He seems to be very close to you, but I don’t know where we stand.”

Mingyu snickered shortly. “It’s funny you say that, ‘cos Wonwoo and I never got along. But he isn’t cold, I promise. Just quiet.”

“No, I know. We got along when we spoke. I just wonder why we haven’t since.”

“Don’t think about it too much. He’s good. Trust me,” Mingyu’s voice trailed off into a whisper. He seemed to know Wonwoo better than anyone here.

He felt Mingyu’s gaze on him now, so he looked to him. His lips curved upwards and there was a spark in his eye.

“Come on!” He grabbed Seungkwan’s wrist and pulled him along. Seungkwan had no choice but to jog behind the taller boy, following him to the water. They ran across the warm pebbles and small stones until their feet were wet, and then their ankles, and then their shins, knees, thighs. Mingyu took Seungkwan to where the cool water was waist level, where the others were.

They greeted him with pleased smiles and exclaims. Seungkwan grinned...

...The sun still warmed his bare shoulders and back, but his bottom half was submerged in the soothing waters of Lake Garda, and he felt healed. Dropping his head, he could see his feet through the shifting ripples. Another pair of feet appeared. He looked up.

“Hansol.” Hansol’s head was low, staring at their feet. Until he too lifted his head to meet Seungkwan’s eyes.

“The water’s nice here. So beautiful,” he said through a smile that seemed he just couldn’t hide. Seungkwan watched him run his hands through his hair and tilted his head back, closing his eyes and letting the sunlight kiss his face.

“It comes from Sacra River.” He kept his eyes on Hansol who still basked in the warmth. The light bounced off the calm ripples and ran along his face, just like it had at the lake on the first night.

When Hansol opened his eyes again, Seungkwan didn’t look away. He broke into a small smile. Hansol smiled back.

But then, he disappeared behind a large splash of water that hit Seungkwan’s face. He stumbled back and yelped, face dripping. When he opened his eyes, Hansol was bent over, holding his stomach and laughing.

Seungkwan took his revenge when he strode through the water and slammed his palms on Hansol’s chest, pushing him back until he fell off his feet.

They played like that for a while, pushing and shoving and wrestling each other into the water. It brought Seungkwan’s mind back to the time in the attic. Hansol was actually quite rough when it came to play-fighting, or perhaps Seungkwan was just too soft. He was always told by his mother to be softer with his sisters.

It wasn’t until the others approached when it was taken to the next level, and Hansol sat on Minghao’s shoulders, and Seungkwan climbed onto Jisoo’s. Their attempt to throw each other off wasn’t as harsh up here - Seungkwan’s hands were clasped with Hansol’s as they tried to pull each other down.

Seungkwan lived for the seconds their hands were together.

After he managed to push Hansol and Minghao down, he celebrated with Jisoo through fist bumps and cheering. He tried to imitate Jisoo’s English.

“We are the Kings!” Jisoo chimed. 

“Yeah! We Kings!” Seungkwan copied, with an unmistakable Korean accent, that Hansol seemed to find funny; he giggled at Seungkwan’s outburst.

“Don’t laugh, _Americano_! I beat you,” Seungkwan snarked playfully, striding to Hansol’s direction. Hansol tried to mask the smile on his lips. But evidently, Seungkwan’s English tickled him. If it made Hansol laugh so much, Seungkwan would speak every English phrase he knew if asked to.

Anything to see Hansol’s sublime smile.

Through their few more rounds of play-fighting, Seungkwan picked up on Mingyu’s and Wonwoo’s absence. Minghao claimed they left to get ice cream, and Seungkwan could only hope that they’d return with ice cream for everyone.

The pounding sun was completely dancing on every ripple of the lake. It soaked into Seungkwan’s skin, it basked in his eyes, and his eyes basked in it. The afternoon became an idle routine of dipping in the lake and coming back across the warm pebbles to enjoy the shade, and then, to the water again. Mingyu and Wonwoo had indeed returned with ice pops. Seungkwan chose to take a cherry one. He shared glances with Hansol, who licked a citrus one.

As the afternoon persisted, Seungkwan found himself deep in conversation with Jisoo. They sat under the green palms, Jisoo relaxed on his side on the grass, propping himself up with one elbow; and Seungkwan lay on his front, kicking his legs and picking at the blades of grass. He watched the sun burn, and the people relax, all while listening intently to Jisoo’s philosophical talk. Seungkwan inputted his own thoughts every so often, but he let Jisoo lead.

“...but you’re Christian, right?” he asked. Seungkwan saw him gesture to the crucifix around his neck.

He nodded and lifted a hand to play with his necklace.

“Me too,” Jisoo said. Seungkwan told himself that Jisoo was likely much more faithful than he. Because Seungkwan couldn’t have even said yes when Jisoo asked. That was how unsure he felt these days.

He tore his gaze away from the view, and landed it on Jisoo. “Is your family?”

“I’m an only child but yeah, my parents are very religious,” Jisoo replied calmly, almost swept away by relaxation. “You go to church here, don’t you?”

“_Um-hm_,” Seungkwan sat up. There was one burning question that rested on the tip of his cherry-tasting tongue. A question that’d sprung to mind as soon as he’d sat down with Jisoo. “Does your religion not clash with your philosophy? I don’t mean to pry, but how haven’t you lost your faith?”

Jisoo sat up too and thought for a moment. Seungkwan put the crucifix of his necklace between his teeth, anticipating Jisoo’s answer.

“You’d think I’d have a split personality, wouldn’t you? A Christian and ‘philosopher’. I think the only reason I do still have faith is because I separate the two - to an extent. Not to have two different lives,” he chuckled. “But I think more than anything, my education has helped to clarify my faith. I can see how you’d worry; philosophers ask questions and those questions can be about God, and if a belief is still present… I dunno if you’ve ever heard of this analogy, Seungkwan, but if it’s faith and truth you ask about, if you found a perfectly functioning watch in the middle of the wilderness, you’d naturally suspect that someone has been there before you, right? And you know, that watch would’ve been put together by some sort of craftsman. Watches don’t grow on trees, they need a watchmaker. And likewise, with the Universe, it is functioning, which means there must’ve been a Universe maker.”

Jisoo stood up and stretched. “A design requires a designer. Do you see what I suggest?” He looked down at Seungkwan, light in his eyes.

Ultimately, Seungkwan didn’t know what to say to that. He took Jisoo’s words, he understood them, but he couldn’t find a good enough answer for Jisoo’s remarkable mind.

“I do see,” Seungkwan uttered as he joined Jisoo to his feet.

“Come on.” Jisoo smiled. “Let’s see the others.” Seungkwan followed him down to the water.

He could not lie about the way he felt. And currently, there was an envious twinge. Jisoo was a sure man - Seungkwan had learned. Jisoo was a firm Christian, he had his beliefs set, and he understood the things that kept Seungkwan stirring at night. It was natural for a human to feel envy because of this, right? Perhaps longing was a better word. For Seungkwan longed for Jisoo’s strength in his faith. His sister, Sojeong, was unphased that her faith was diminishing, or had diminished a long time ago. But Seungkwan could not endure such a feeling.

He took a moment to be on his own in the water. It was pleasant, actually, to stand with the water up to his waistline, and listen to it, to the distant voices behind him. To think about the times that he’d spend around here with his father.

“Hey.” Seungkwan heard a voice close behind him, and heard the water as a body grew closer. He looked beside him. Hansol was here, with him.

“Hey,” Seungkwan said and looked away again. But he still felt Hansol’s intent stare on him.

“Did you get to know Jisoo hyung?”

Seungkwan nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah.” He looked to Hansol. “Are you good friends with him?”

Hansol smiled. “Yeah! Known him since, like, high school. We seem to get along pretty well. He’s like an older brother, I guess.”

“Sounds nice. I’ve never had a friend that close, really. I’m closest with my sisters. Sojeong mostly,” Seungkwan rambled.

“I can be that friend,” Hansol said in a way that sounded more like a suggestion. There was apprehension. But there was a subtle smile on his lips.

Seungkwan smiled back, up at Hansol. He could feel their hands drifting closely in the water, with the movement of the ripples, fingertips slightly touching. “Okay.”

Seungkwan thought about this later on, when they left the lake to grab some drinks at a nightclub nearby. By now, it was dark and faces were lit by fluorescent pinks and blues and purples of the lights. The disco was outdoors, music loud and free in the open space, so it wasn’t confined and jarring to the ears. Jisoo had initially suggested that they find a quiet place to grab some food, and it was actually Minghao who proposed something livelier. Mingyu and Hansol quickly jumped on board with Minghao’s idea.

“Looks like I’ll be driving back,” Wonwoo muttered before taking a sip from his bottle of Cola. Only he and Seungkwan were sitting at the table, watching the others on the dance floor.

“Why?”

Wonwoo nodded his head in the direction of the bar that could be seen through the dancing bodies. Mingyu was walking back, from there, with a beer in his grip. He walked around the dance floor, and weaved through the tables and chairs to place the bottle down onto theirs. Taking the cigarette from between his lips, he grinned.

“Dance with me, Boo!” he exclaimed, holding out a hand and smiling down at Seungkwan. The music had only just switched to _Maniac_, and Seungkwan couldn’t resist. He glanced across the table to Wonwoo who was slouched back in his seat, looking over and done, drearily flicking his wrist at Seungkwan to dismiss him. At that, Seungkwan took Mingyu’s hand and bounded to the centre of the dance floor.

Mingyu was always a joy to dance with. He threw his arms up, brimming with energy, running his hands through his hair, head tilted back, bouncing to the beat. Seungkwan jumped alongside him, sharing the overwhelming rapture whenever the chorus hit, chanting the lyrics _she’s a maniac! maniac on the floor! _and smiling at each other.

Mingyu took a drag from his cigarette as he danced, and he looked so happy. There were multiple occasions on the dance floor when Mingyu had Seungkwan bent over and laughing until his ribs ached and his face was sore. At one point, he glanced over at the tables again, where Wonwoo sat, looking rather pained, not physically, but emotionally. Perhaps he was homesick. Mingyu left around that time to sit with him. Which left Seungkwan to dance alone.

It was actually quite liberating, to dance and enjoy the music on his own. He was alone, yet surrounded by other young people. His eyes were closed as he felt nothing but the music, upbeat and invigorating. He knew that somewhere, amidst the sparkling bodies, Jisoo, Minghao and Hansol were dancing too. He could even occasionally hear Hansol’s laughter and through the other people’s chatter.

It was inevitable that he would bump into him at some point. And he did just that when _Don’t You Want Me_ was playing. Hansol was glowing with vigour, (and perhaps slight intoxication). And Seungkwan loved the way he moved, it was charming and fantastic. He jumped with so much energy and enthusiasm, with not a care in the world for how he looked when he moved his body. And he held such a wide grin on his face the entire time.

“Are you having fun?” He leaned in to ask in Seungkwan’s ear. He’d rested his hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder as he’d done so, and Seungkwan lifted his hand to briefly rest over the top of his.

“Yeah! Where did Minghao and Jisoo go?” he asked as he bopped his head.

“Oh, Minghao’s dancing with some girl. And I think Jisoo left for the bathroom,” Hansol answered casually, throwing his thumb over his shoulder.

“Ah. You haven’t found a girl to dance with?” Seungkwan didn’t know why he’d asked that. But it made Hansol chuckle.

“No, not my thing. I’d rather dance with my good friend!”

With that, they kept on dancing together. Seungkwan became so lost in the moment that he wasn’t paying attention to anything else. He hadn’t noticed that he’d progressed closer to Hansol until their arms brushed, and hands collided. He took a step back and carried on dancing.

As he kept his eyes on Hansol, some type of nausea overcame him. It was not to the point where he could hurl, but it was a distinct twist within his stomach, a disturbance that momentarily seized him. It was a feeling that washed over his entire body - slightly light-headed and thrown off course. He couldn’t put it down to anything; he’d eaten well, and he’d felt fine all day. It had only just occurred, when he was watching Hansol dance and smile.

Seungkwan decided to take a break. He sat to the side, at an empty table. He didn’t want to sit back with Wonwoo and Mingyu; looking at them, he could see that Wonwoo still appeared agitated.

After sitting down for a while, watching Minghao dance rather closely with a girl, and Jisoo appear every now and then as he travelled the entire floor, his nausea gradually faded. Hansol left the dance floor to come and sit with him.

“Why aren’t you sitting with them?” he asked, catching his breath. He darted his eyes over Seungkwan’s shoulder to Mingyu and Wonwoo further back.

Seungkwan shrugged, chin resting in his palm. “Wonwoo is pissed, or something. I don’t think he wants to drive back.” Everyone apart from Seungkwan, Jisoo and Wonwoo had taken alcohol tonight, and Seungkwan couldn’t drive, so it _had _to be Wonwoo who drove Mingyu’s car back.

When Seungkwan looked back to Hansol, he was already looking at him with a tiny smile on his lips.

Neither said anything.

Seungkwan just watched the colours of the lights dance along Hansol’s face.

“I dreamt of you last night,” Hansol said.

Seungkwan raised his brows. “Dreamt of me?” Hansol was evidently, slightly drunk, and by the sound of it, he had a loose tongue, under alcohol’s influence. 

“Yup. Of you.”

Hansol never explained the dream. And on the ride back home, it was killing Seungkwan, the desire to know. He couldn’t even ask Hansol because somewhere along the journey, he had fallen asleep, his head resting on Seungkwan’s shoulder. From all of that dancing, he must have really exhausted himself. Like a toddler who’d had too much fun on his birthday.

Seungkwan did not move for the majority of the ride. It was so simple, so sweet and wholesome, listening to Hansol’s breathing as he slept on him. And knowing that his body was stability for Hansol, to rest on. No, how could he move when he knew that?

With a hushed voice, he spoke to Jisoo in the seat ahead, “I can’t believe he’s fallen asleep. I can’t sleep in a car. I’d rather watch out the window.”

“He always does this, it’s funny,” Jisoo said, briefly looking over his shoulder to flash Seungkwan a smile. “He’ll throw himself at anything until, well, until this.”

There, something about Hansol that Seungkwan admired.

If he thought about it, he valued so much of Hansol - so much that Seungkwan felt he lacked in himself. The free-spiritedness of his actions and his words, and the surety of himself. His intentional indifference to the standards of society, the individuality and astonishing creativity of his mind. Hansol did not care for other’s judgment towards him.

And that was something that Seungkwan could never surmount. That he struggled to surmount. But Hansol, soundly sleeping on his shoulder, was uplifting to Seungkwan, he was teaching Seungkwan. And nobody had ever made Seungkwan feel a sense of hope like this.

Hope that he too, could reach liberty.


	5. Yearning Sunsets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been hard to find time and energy to write recently, I'm so sorry this took so long! Thank you for being patient with me <3
> 
> Even when chapters take a while, I'm always updating the [moodboard](https://weheartit.com/peachkwan/collections/154152605-)  
and the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3sfWyg0duyDS4qJCKMvLbs?si=eGkApsQVQ_6-cvr6a5_Ukg) :)

“...Hansol?”

“Hm?” Hansol opened his eyes. He lifted a hand over them to block the sunlight. It was at its brightest this afternoon. Wonwoo stood against it, looking down onto Hansol who basked in the sun lounger.

“You’re awake. Good.” He leaned down to pick up a watering can beside his foot. “Come help me, will you?”

Hansol had drifted in and out of dreams all day - in the hammock or the sun lounger, in the shade or under sunlight. He was still recharging after yesterday. A day that he’d remember well. Especially the sweet citrus flavour that he’d tasted from his ice pop. He expected that it would become evocative to this time. In no way would he taste citrus the same without thinking back to yesterday.

It would’ve been a lie if he claimed he wasn’t feeling at least a little unwell, due to the later hours of last night. Though a faint pain in his head and a dry mouth was all it was—nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. He stepped into the kitchen to chug a glass of water before getting onto helping Wonwoo.

There were a few plant pots near the wedged-open door that Hansol started on. Wonwoo was closeby; he could hear the water from his watering can as it hit the soil. A soothing sound.

This time of day was when the shade of the trees wasn’t in the way for Hansol’s unclad torso to be drenched in sunshine. It meant that he was already hot before this task. And keeping the weight of so much water in his arms was inducing a sweat. It was astonishing just how much he had perspired during his time here.

Not far, there was a distant, mechanical hum as Mingyu was pushing the lawnmower along the grass of the backyard. His eyes were hidden behind his favourite sunglasses and his light hair was swept from his sticky forehead. Wonwoo thought that he looked as if he was modelling for some kind of weirdly sensual gardening magazine. Hansol sniggered at him. 

“Are you still mad at him?” he then asked. He glanced over his shoulder to Wonwoo who had his back to him. He was tipping the nozzle of his watering can into a bay tree pot.

Hansol heard the water stop.

“Who?”

“Mingyu.”

The water started again.

Hansol turned to run his water over the shrubs against the house. They could’ve done with trimming, too; green was climbing up the stone walls. It did look beautiful, though.

Wonwoo scoffed. “No, I can’t be. I was petty. How did you know, anyway?”

Hansol recalled the walk back to the car park last night. Even though he and Jisoo had been singing _Wham! _rather obnoxiously, he noticed Wonwoo’s bickering with Mingyu ahead of them as they walked through the empty night street. The same time he could remember fighting back the cravings when they passed a restaurant of delicious scents.

That was when he heard Wonwoo yap at Mingyu. Never had he heard Wonwoo let his voice reach that level. It was only short. Snappy. It bounced off the tall walls of the alley they sauntered down.

Hansol shrugged. “Seungkwan pointed it out.”

Wonwoo could’ve been right, maybe it was petty. Maybe he was worn-out from the day, that was why he took it so to heart. Still, it was jarring, especially when intoxicated and drowsy. Hansol never usually found a reason to shout at another. The startled look on Seungkwan’s face, when Wonwoo had yelled, made Hansol hope that he would never have to.

“Mingyu’s pretty hard to have a straight conversation with once he has drink in him,” was what Hansol said before the subject was dropped permanently. 

When his water ran out, Wonwoo’s did around the same time. Hansol told rest whilst he went around the side of the house to run the watering cans under the garden faucet. It was cool here, in the shade. Hansol didn’t have to squint his eyes under the brilliant sunlight.

He bent his knees and filled each can, humming to himself as he waited. Once they were full, he cupped his hands under the cold water and splashed it in his face, running his damp fingers back through his hair. It had cooled him down for a quick moment, water dripping from the tip of his nose and running along his jawline, dropping onto his chest.

He spoke more with Wonwoo when he returned. All the while, replenishing nature.

“I think you’re finally catching a tan,” he remarked after Wonwoo took off his blue Izod polo shirt. (He’d been complaining about the heat the entire time).

Hansol caught a clandestine smile on Wonwoo’s mouth.

“You think so?” Wonwoo brought up his forearm and rotated it to examine the tone of his skin. “Mingyu did a pretty bad job with my sunscreen yesterday. I’m surprised I didn't get burnt.” He went back to watering the flowers.

Hansol actually thought Mingyu had been thorough yesterday, when he’d seen him rub the sunscreen into Wonwoo’s skin.

“Maybe you’ll return home not as pale as you left, then,” he chuckled.

Mingyu had finished with the lawnmower now. He must’ve disappeared to give the grass clippings to Florenzo, to let the cows have.

“I did have a good time, though. Yesterday.” Wonwoo’s voice was delicate among the bright birdsongs. Hansol smiled to himself. He had spent a lot of yesterday with Seungkwan, who was no doubt his new favourite company.

“Me too.”

Wonwoo put his watering can down and placed his palms on his lower back, leaning back to stretch. “Hey, you’re not going into town today, are you?” he asked as he groaned, face scrunched.

“Yeah, I could.” He had nothing else to do today.

“Mingyu has already whined to me so much about his hangover and I can’t take it anymore. Could you get him something?”

“He sounds like your child,” Hansol chuckled. “I’ll stop at the pharmacy later.”

Hansol found himself with Jisoo, after watering the plants. Jisoo was sitting on the grass, beneath one of the trees that held the empty hammock. Hansol filled that space and closed his eyes, swinging gently and listening to Jisoo fiddle with his guitar. It wasn’t often that he got to hear Jisoo play, but he had found this guitar in the house a couple days after arriving and that must have stirred his musical ardour.

The melody that he played was simple and fluent.

“What is that?” Hansol asked. He was carried away by the tune.

“Oh My Love,” Jisoo answered softly, “John Lennon.”

Hansol kept his eyes shut, rocking idly in the hammock. He could have been floating in heaven.

The blend of Jisoo’s mellow guitar with the birds was sheer heaven itself. His mind began to roam and he became curious if Jisoo had dedicated such a pretty song to anyone.

“Who are you playing this for?”

Jisoo didn’t stop playing as he answered. “It’s not for anyone. Well, at least from me. I just like the way it sounds,” he almost murmured and Hansol could tell that his head was dipped and he was focused on his fingers on the fretboard.

To dedicate a composition of artwork to somebody, out of passion or appreciation for them, was something Hansol admired. It was such an intimate gesture, display of emotion and sentiment. Hansol’s mom used to base a vast collection of her paintings around space—the colourful, cosmic beauty of it. So, for her, he had painted a composition quite similar, with intriguing textures and swirling colours amongst the blackness. That was the only time he had dedicated something of his to somebody.

“Where did Wonwoo go?”

Hansol shrugged in the hammock. “Beats me. Maybe to help Mingyu on the farm?” Those two often stuck together.

“Hm.” There was a pause as Jisoo set the guitar to the side. Hansol heard the acoustic rattle. “Wonwoo looks happy here, doesn’t he?”

Overlooking his temper last night, Hansol would agree.

Jisoo carried on, “he’s always so stressed, working and stuff. It’s nice to see him relaxing like this.”

Hansol chuckled. “Until Mingyu irritates him again.” He sat up in the hammock to look down at Jisoo. He was still slumped against the tree, playing with a dandelion he’d picked. “You should start playing the guitar again, hyung. Like, _properly_. You should write songs or something.”

Jisoo scoffed. “What do I have to write about?” Hansol watched him look at the guitar beside him.

“That’s the beauty of it, right? You can sing about anything you want.”

Jisoo got to his feet and picked up the neck of the guitar with one hand. “Yeah, I guess so.” He began to walk away.

“I hope you’re leaving to write a song!” Hansol called out jokingly. Jisoo simply passed a smile over his shoulder.

When the day started to cool down, Hansol left the house to go into town with Minghao. They walked without haste through the hazy countryside, the hot afternoon air gradually subsiding with the sun. Minghao kept his hands tucked into his dungarees, his trainers scuffing on the road as they walked. Relaxed as ever.

“Have you seen Seungkwan today?” Hansol didn’t know why he’d asked that. The question had hardly processed in his mind before it was on his lips. Yet the thought had lingered with him today - that he hadn’t seen Seungwan at all. It was common that he would catch at least a glimpse of Seungkwan if he came down to borrow something from Mingyu, or simply hang around for a little while. But today, nothing.

Minghao paused to think. That made Hansol suspect that he had seen him.

“Yeah, this morning,” was all he said. Hansol bit his tongue; he wanted more context. “Why?”

Hansol shrugged. “Just….” He didn’t know. “How’s your project going?” he asked instead, shifting the attention onto Minghao.

“My artwork? I’d like to say it’s going well. Met some interesting faces. Learned some things. Learned more Italian too,” he chuckled. Hansol hoped to see Minghao’s sketchbook before the time would come for him to leave for his next stop.

They visited an art store when they reached the town - a different one to what Seungkwan had taken him to. Minghao picked up some things whilst Hansol looked around.

There was always something fascinating for Minghao to say, and Hansol was always willing to listen. As they stood on the stone bridge above Adige river, sharing a blunt that Minghao had rolled, he spoke of a French film he’d seen before coming to Italy.

“_À Nos Amours_. To Our Loves.”

Hansol listened, taking deep drags from the joint. He was rather immune to marijuana - every time he’d had it, all that came along with it was a pleasant buzz.

The view from the bridge was like a photograph. Sunset behind the green banks in the distance, and the orange glow following the ripples of the river through the middle. Either side, the orange, peach, beige buildings remained bright, a contrast against the hue of blue in the sky that was almost gone by now. Streetlights were beginning to shine through, lined along the riversides. As his mind wandered, Hansol could watch the distant, moving figures of people strolling down each side.

“Hey, what happened to that girl? Who you danced with last night.” He had been intending to ask Minghao. Minghao scoffed and took the blunt when Hansol passed it.

“Nothing at all. She just seemed fun to dance with,” Minghao answered.

Hansol thought that Seungkwan was rather fun to dance with.

He watched Minghao flick the blunt into the water below and then look at him. “Shall we go?” Before they headed back, Hansol had only just remembered to get Mingyu some medication at the pharmacy.

It sounded like friends were over when they returned; Hansol could hear lively chatter as he and Minghao stepped into the entryway. It was coming from the living room. Minghao headed upstairs, but Hansol wanted to know who was over. Mingyu’s voice was prominent, and he could notice Jisoo’s too.

Hansol was lingering in the entryway now, stepping in contemplating circles. Until he entered the living room.

“Hansol!” Jisoo cheered, flashing a pleased smile in his direction. Hansol tried to return it, though he was rather more focused on the faces in the room. There were Sojeong and a few of her friends. No Seungkwan.

Hansol dropped the box of medication on Mingyu’s stomach as he crossed the room to sit on the arm of the armchair that Jisoo occupied. They were out of the conversation here in the corner. Spectating instead, listening to the Italian babble that neither could comprehend.

“Where did you go?” Jisoo asked, looking up at Hansol. Hansol was watching Mingyu across the room. He was stretched across the sofa with one of the girls close to him - a cigarette hung from his lips. It was always a recurring thought to him that Mingyu could probably get any girl he fancied. And any man, if he wanted.

“Just out with Minghao.”

“Oh. I thought you went to see Seungkwan.”

Hansol dropped his gaze to Jisoo. “You did?”

Laughter erupted in the room. Mingyu must have said something. But it averted Jisoo’s attention.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” he asked, amused.

Hansol chuckled. “Mingyu’s probably charming them with some dumb story about himself,” he said slightly more quietly, so not to be heard by Mingyu.

Seeing Sojeong’s friends took Hansol’s thoughts back to the day in the attic with Seungkwan. Even now, Hansol could not choose what it was - if Seungkwan liked one of the girls, or he simply wanted Hansol’s opinion on them. Was he expecting Hansol to admit that he’d taken a fondness to one?

“Hansol,” Sojeong’s voice caught his attention. He looked in her direction, where she sat on a smaller sofa with another girl. “You were pretty good at volleyball. Shame you left with Seungkwannie,” she said in Korean. Hansol smiled at her compliment.

“We should play again sometime,” Jisoo suggested.

“Sunday? Afternoon?,” Mingyu proposed. He turned to the girl beside him and uttered something in Italian.

“I guess we’re playing volleyball Sunday, then,” Jisoo uttered through a playful smirk, an exchange between him and Hansol only.

Early Sunday morning, Jisoo proposed he and Hansol went for a jog. Hansol agreed to join him; it was a way to occupy his mind. He slipped into colourful shorts and a loose t-shirt. Jisoo stood up after tying his laces and held out a hand between them.

“Ready?” Hansol briefly squeezed Jisoo’s hand and nodded.

They left the house sometime after 7 am. Hansol was actually glad to be up and out so early with Jisoo; he never did this back home. And running was a reliable way to blow off some steam. Just like painting. Almost as if he was running from any pestering thoughts, keeping his focus ahead to the free road, free thoughts. Only just for one morning.

Jisoo followed a route that he’d taken when he’d jogged alone the other morning. It was nothing spectacular, simply country roads and treelines that followed, sometimes passing houses or farmland. The sun reached higher during their run. Hansol liked the burn - on his back and in his legs.

Yesterday, he’d hardly done any exercise at all. He spent the day painting with Minghao. Mingyu and Wonwoo were gone from the house until around 8 pm when they returned in a giddy mood. He didn’t see Seungkwan either yesterday.

Where there was shade in the treeline, off the roads, they took a break. It’d been over an hour, and Hansol could see the darkness in Jisoo’s shirt, on his chest and back and underarms, where he was sweating. Hansol guessed that he looked the same. For a minute, both panted, unable to say a word as they tried to catch their breath. Hansol bent his legs to sit down on the grass-

“No, don’t sit down,” Jisoo puffed, leaned against a tree. “You won’t be able to get back up again.” Hansol didn’t sit down, then. Instead, he ambled in circles through the grass, pulling a reed from its root.

“Can we go into town? Get a drink?” he requested and stopped strolling around to look at Jisoo.

“Sure. Let’s just rest. For a sec.” Jisoo scrunched his face and bent over, hands on his knees. Hansol caught a flash of a smile from him as he sighed. “Why did we choose to go so far?”

Hansol shrugged. “It’s your route.”

Jisoo lifted his head to meet Hansol’s eyes. “Yeah. I guess I can only blame myself, huh.”

Once they caught their breath, they jogged lighter to town. Hansol didn’t realise just how thirsty he was till they started running again, under the pounding sun. Yet still, he could work these routes forever. Something about running where the exposed undergrowth grew on the road felt pure. Everything was beautiful here. Through the ceaseless thrumming from the cicadas and crickets, and their shoes on the hot ground, their heavy breaths as they ran, looking up to an astoundingly empty sky. The lush green trees against the blue of the sky were like a painting alive with colour. Hansol could eternally watch the sight before him as it rolled with the heatwave that hovered on every surface.

“You have money with you?” Hansol asked once they reached the town square. They were heaving for breath again, feet heavy on the ground.

“Yeah. Just water?” Jisoo headed for the small convenience store, careful not to walk into the magazine stand. Hansol nodded and watched Jisoo disappear inside.

He hung around beneath the awning, enriched with shade. Bringing his wrist up to his vision, he read half-past ten on his watch - they’d been running for some time now. As he caught his breath, Hansol looked around the square, listening to the birds above, wherever they were.

“Here,” Jisoo beckoned. Hansol turned to catch the water bottle that was wet with condensation. It slipped from his grip and hit the floor. He hissed a curse under his breath and picked it up. Drinking that ice-cold water was sheer bliss. He tipped his head back and let the water simply fall down his throat, clumsily spilling some on his chin, dripping onto his shirt. He wiped his mouth and let out a satisfied sigh. Jisoo was drinking his water rather more gracefully, taking small sips. Hansol dropped his gaze to where had a newspaper folded under his arm.

“You’re gonna read that?” Hansol questioned him, twisting the lid closed on his bottle.

“It’s for Mingyu. Yeah, Mingyu reads the newspaper now,” Jisoo chuckled. Hansol smiled because never once in the States had he seen a newspaper in Mingyu’s hands.

“I wonder what’s going on back home,” he said, now that his mind was on New York. Hansol didn’t go on vacation often, and when it was, he was with his family. So to be so far away from them at eighteen was quite liberating. Almost like he was shifting from teenager to a young adult here.

“Hm, I might call my mom later. Though she probably misses you more than me,” Jisoo joked.

“They’ll be going to church today, won’t they?” Jisoo began to walk again, so Hansol followed. 

“Gosh, yeah, it’s Sunday. It’s hard to count the days here. How long have we been here now?”

Hansol gazed up as he thought and watched a flock of birds settle on the balcony above a cafe. “Uh, like, just over a week. But it feels like so much longer.”

They passed the chapel just in time as the service was over. Hansol knew Seungkwan came here with his family every Sunday. He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t on the lookout for a glimpse of that blonde hair. It wasn’t a busy church so it didn’t take long to find him.

He was glad. Yet wary.

“Seungkwan, hey.” He approached him and his family with a welcoming smile, bowing lightly. Jisoo hadn’t followed him.

“Hey! Hansol! What have you been doing?!” Sojeong spoke up, gesturing to Hansol probably because he looked rather sweaty.

“Oh, just running with Jisoo.” He pointed behind his shoulder to where Jisoo stood, _trying _to read the newspaper.

“You must be tired,” Seungkwan said. It sounded forced.

Hansol let out a half-suppressed laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“We’ll be in the car, Seungkwan. Goodbye, Hansol,” Seungkwan’s mother announced before she left with his sisters, leaving Hansol and Seungkwan stood alone outside the chapel. Hansol shifted his attention upon it. The building was rather small but beautiful, with steps leading up to tall, golden doors.

“What’s it like inside there?” He tried to think of anything to make conversation.

Seungkwan shrugged and scuffed his foot against the ground. “Like any other church, I guess.”

Hansol shoved his hands into his pockets. “Hey, I was thinking about cooling down at the lake if you wanna join us? Maybe then we can go back together for volleyball?” he suggested on a whim, although he thought it sounded like a nice idea.

Seungkwan hesitated. Hansol bit the inside of his cheek. He held his gaze and suddenly dropped it.

“I’m okay. But thanks.” He stepped back. “I gotta go, my mother’s waiting.” Already, he was walking away.

“Yeah, of course. Yeah. See you.”

Seungkwan waved silently and turned his back on Hansol. Hansol listened to the boy's footsteps that faded the more distance that came between them.

Flat. That was how their interaction felt for Hansol. But he wasn’t going to let himself think about it for now. He walked back to Jisoo, watching over his shoulder as Seungkwan dipped into the white car.

With that, Hansol didn’t go to the lake. He headed straight home with Jisoo and took a cold shower. Lunch was ready by then. He ate in the garden with the others and listened to Wonwoo rave about a book he was currently reading.

An hour or so later, they played volleyball in the backyard of the villa, where they had last time. Minghao was the only one to stay back at the farmhouse. 

Hansol spotted Mrs. Boo closeby, stood beneath an apricot tree and picking the ripe ones. She had been warm to him since his arrival - Hansol found her welcoming, just like her son. He wondered where Seungkwan was until he saw the boy emerge from behind the second tree, an apricot in each hand. _There you are_.

He watched him as he bent down to drop the fruits into the basket in the grass, beside his mother’s feet.

Hansol lifted his hand and called out, “Seungkwan-ah!”

One short glance. No smile, no returning wave. Practically no acknowledgement. Seungkwan had glanced at Hansol and turned his back again to pick from the tree. From what Hansol knew of, Seungkwan wasn’t wholly serious about harvesting apricots. And so he was puzzled as to why it seemed he had just disturbed Seungkwan during some insanely important task which meant no time to say hello.

But Hansol couldn’t look or dwell on it any longer; the ball was hit into the air and the game had started. He managed to let Camilla, Sojeong’s friend, take it. Camilla had shown some interest in Hansol, which was nice. She seemed sweet - with brunette curls and neon earrings.

Eager was the sun. Hansol grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the grass. Perhaps that was the point when the air shifted on his side of the net. As they kept playing, he’d noticed that Seungkwan was sat on the side now, watching. Watching with a silent stare and slowly eating an apricot he’d picked.

The game was harder to focus on. Camilla would not stop high-fiving him, and Seungkwan’s stare was determined. Hansol tried to recall something he could’ve said recently that would reward him with such a distant and indifferent side to Seungkwan today.

He glanced across to him, every so often, as the boy chatted to Sojeong’s friend.

_Speak to me_.

Even when Greta appeared with water and fruit, when everyone had flocked to the small table to take from it and catch a break, Seungkwan kept over there. Hansol was almost tempted to approach and ask if he wanted to join in, but he left it. From his earlier reaction, he didn’t think that one would be any better.

Hansol didn’t see Seungkwan at all for the rest of the day. That could’ve been his own doing since he’d stayed at the farmhouse mostly - painting in the garden with his headphones on. Watercolours, he felt like watercolours today. How easy they were to glide across the surface. The task with watercolours was keeping it from bleeding.

Afternoon’s image had stuck in his mind… so he painted it. He painted what was his view, Seungkwan beneath the orange-yellow orchard with his mother.

He binned the small piece shortly afterwards.

  
  


“...You didn’t play with us yesterday. Why not, hm?”

Seungkwan was resting on his back, stretched across the sofa with his head in Mingu’s lap. He’d had his eyes closed as he chatted idly with Mingyu, letting the older play with his hair. But he opened them now to look up at him.

“I was helping Mother,” he said as he lifted his head for Mingyu to cross his leg over the other. He dropped his head on his leg again, now with more support to look at Mingyu.

“You were moping around.”

Mingyu was right. Seugkwan hated when he was proven at fault.

He huffed, “do I have to play every time?”

“No, I was just wondering. We’re a great team, that’s all.” Mingyu charmed and poked his fingertip on Seungkwan’s nose. Seungkwan scoffed, but couldn’t hide his smile.

“Are we doing anything tonight?” he asked. Seungkwan was bored today. His sisters had left early this morning for Venice, which was just over an hour’s drive. He expected they wouldn’t be back until late evening. As for his mother, she was around somewhere, writing. Seungkwan didn’t want to disturb her so he’d kept himself cool by staying indoors. Yet there were only so many books one could read, or television one could watch, or piano one could play before indoors became a drag, when alone.

That was when, as if he knew, Mingyu had shown up - about an hour or so ago, by now. 

He looked up at the chandelier as he thought. “Uhm... Oh, yeah!” His eyes bolted down again to Seungkwan, sparkling. “I have a spare ticket to see Romeo and Juliet. At the little theatre that we’ve been to before.”

“Who’s going?”

“Only me. I bought the other ticket for you.” Mingyu poked his cheek. Seungkwan smiled up at him and there was a joyous warmth that kindled within his chest.

“I’ll come.”

“Good!”

Seungkwan could remember when he had visited that amateur theatre when he was fourteen. He went along with Mingyu to watch an Italian play that he could not remember the name of at all. They’d gone to mess around - Mingyu always brought that influence upon Seungkwan. But in the end, he quite enjoyed the show.

“I miss your natural hair...” Mingyu mumbled, twirling a lock of Seungkwan’s blonde hair.

Evening time, Seungkwan changed into a pair of blue jeans and a loose button shirt, light pink. Mingyu had left a few hours earlier. He was glad to be spending time with Mingyu alone, like when they were younger.

With Camilla’s company, he walked to the farmhouse, under the setting sun. Camilla had visited to see if Sojeong was home yet, which she wasn’t. So instead, she joined Seungkwan on his commute to Mingyu’s. Seungkwan always thought that Camilla was a nice girl. She was a couple of years older than him, and she was always the one to teach him new words in Italian, usually the inappropriate ones, which Jinseol always disapproved of.

“Hey, who is the quiet boy? Slim. Dark hair,” she asked him after they stepped out the gates of the villa. Camilla could have left it at ‘the quiet boy’ and Seungkwan could tell her.

“Wonwoo. Why?”

“Oh, yes! That’s his name. Are they cousins, or something? He and Mingyu? I was wondering yesterday.”

Seungkwan laughed. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Oh right. They’re just really close. Don’t you think?”

Seungkwan didn’t need to think about it; that was pretty obvious. “Hm. Yeah, you’re right.” He didn’t elaborate because wanted to take this chance with Camilla to talk about somebody else. It took him a moment to build up the courage. There was a brief silence as Seungkwan scuffed his heels and debated in his mind.

“You like Hansol, don’t you?” he asked, dropping his gaze to his shoes as they walked on the cobblestone path.

“He’s great! Cute.”

Was that all? Seungkwan wanted more, he wanted to hear everything that Camilla thought of him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! We did manage to talk a little the other day. I know just enough English to hold a conversation between us,” she chuckled awkwardly. Seungkwan couldn’t imagine having a decent conversation with Hansol in English without stuffing up. Maybe that brought a pang of jealousy.

He ignored it and questioned, her, “what did you talk about?”

Camilla shrugged. “I guess I asked a lot about America. And he wanted to know about my upbringing.” Seungkwan didn’t say anything. He watched a car go by as they reached near the end of the bank, close to Mingyu’s. Seven steps later, Camilla spoke. “Why are you so interested? I see you have a lot of fun with him. I bet he’s told you more about himself than I know of him.”

Yes, Camilla was probably right. And as much as Seungkwan hated to admit, that made him feel a little smug.

He looked to the side, at a small tree. “Just making conversation,” he muttered.

Reaching the farmhouse, Seungkwan all of a sudden didn’t like the feeling in his stomach. It twisted and he could feel his heart on his chest now. He couldn’t put down where the faint nerves were coming from.

Seungkwan wiped his cheek after Camilla placed a kiss there before she’d left for the backyard, where it was audible everyone seemed to be. There was even music. Seungkwan knew that Hansol would be there, laughing and drinking, maybe in the pool, smoking, or dancing. He felt the urge to step out and say hello whilst he waited for Mingyu to finish up getting ready, but instead, he sat on the bottom of the staircase and just listened.

He _did _have a lot of fun with Hansol. Since Lake Garda, he’d realised that he had _too much_ fun with him. He enjoyed it too much for his own emotions, being friends with Hansol.

Heavy footsteps down the stairs were unmistakably Mingyu’s. There was a pat on the top of his head as Mingyu passed him.

“Hey! Come on!”

They walked to the theatre, watching nightfall. Within the theatre, a lot of the seats were filled by tourists, seeing as this was Romeo and Juliet, being performed in the city where Shakespeare portrayed it to be. He knew the story, he knew the clichés. Yet Seungkwan could not help but adore it.

Despite their irrational teenage choices of blood and thunder, Romeo’s juvenility, and Juliet’s naivety, Seungkwan was attached to the idea of such deep and unwavering desire for one another.

Whenever he looked beside him, to Mingyu, he was struggling to maintain focus on the actors. He never did last long with attention span. Quite amusing for Seungkwan, really, but most likely not for the surrounding audience who had to listen to Mingyu tapping his foot or fidgeting like a child.

“You bought the tickets!” Seungkwan giggled as they walked out the building, once the show was over.

“It was just the boring parts! I couldn’t understand them.” Mingyu pouted, already taking the box of cigarettes from his jeans to pluck one out, the last one. He tossed the empty box into the bin when they passed it on the street.

“I liked it. It felt real,” Seungkwan said, stopping when Mingyu did to light his cigarette up. The sun had completely gone by now - Mingyu’s skin was lit up by the street light above them, like a spotlight. A ring on his hand caught the light when he flicked his fingers on the lighter. The glint caught Seungkwan’s eye.

“That’s new,” he pointed out. He was positive he’d never seen that ring before on Mingyu. It was golden, from what Seungkwan could tell. 

Mingyu put his lighter away and threw his head back as he sucked from his cigarette. “This?” He stepped closer to show Seungkwan his right ring finger. The band ring looked awfully pricey with fine and detailed engraving. It caught the lights at every angle, sparkling in his eyes. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Seungkwan nodded, unable to take his eyes off it. Until Mingyu shoved his hand in his pocket and they began to walk again, down the night street. They walked slowly, past the quiet restaurants and bars. Seungkwan kept his eyes up, looking at the warm lights.

“Are you gonna tell me where you got it, or am I gonna have to ask, huh?” The ring looked too special for it to have just been bought by Mingyu on a whim.

Mingyu exhaled shortly, some smoke escaping. “You wanna know? Wonwoo bought it for me on Saturday. I told him not to. I’d pointed it out as we were only looking around. But he insisted.”

“Wow… Is it like, a friendship thing?” Seungkwan was utterly astounded. “Camilla told me today, she thought you were family—you and Wonwoo.”

Mingyu laughed out loud, a bark that echoed in the street. “We look nothing alike! Wonwoo has a much better nose, for sure.”

“I think she meant with how close you two are.”

Mingyu dismissed him, “I’ve known Wonwoo since I moved to America, of course, I’m close.”

He was getting somewhat defensive now. Seungkwan cut it there.

“I don’t wanna go back yet. Let’s eat!” he cheered and skipped ahead of Mingyu, his joyful footsteps sounding down the street.

“...It’s not like you,” Mingyu had said later on, as they waited for their food to be served.

“What?”

“You’ve been distant.”

Seungkwan knew he had kept more to himself just recently. It was both entirely intentional and completely unintentional. He dropped his gaze from Mingyu and ran his fingertip along the rim of his glass of water.

“What is it? It hasn’t just been volleyball yesterday. Hansol told me you didn’t wanna go to the lake. He asked me if you were alright,” Mingyu pressed. They sat in a restaurant that they’d both visited before, together, actually, with their families. Their table was outside the back, underneath an arching canopy, beside a lining of plants. The outdoor dining here was favoured than indoors, they were lucky to have found a table. Seungkwan didn’t mind the relaxed chatter around him.

“I don’t wanna seem any different,” Seungkwan uttered. Watching the ice swirl in his glass.

“You don’t seem different. Maybe Hansol was just speculating.”

The topic had been left there when the food had arrived. They shared a pizza - classic, thin crust. It took Seungkwan back to the time he’d shared a pizza here with Mingyu when they were younger. The taste was almost nostalgic.

He couldn’t help but giggle as he bit into a slice. “Remember when we ran around the fish pond outside of here, and you almost fell in? I was so hoping you would lose your balance!” he said between laughter and chewing, watching Mingyu frown.

“What if I _had _fallen in?! I could’ve, like, killed a fish!” Mingyu stopped chewing. “...Do you think it’ll still be the same fish?”

Seungkwan snorted. “Unless someone else has made the same mistake, I think it will be the same fish that was here a few years ago, Gyu.”

“We should check when we leave,” Mingyu stated before taking another bite.

When they were eating quietly, Mingyu had decided to resume the subject from earlier, “But tell me,” he spoke. “Your distance. Is it anything at all?”

Seungkwan watched Mingyu’s ring, blinking under the decorative lights above. 

“No. It’s nothing, Mingyu. Don’t worry.”

Seungkwan missed his father today. Which was odd because he hardly ever did anymore. After so long, those feelings transpired less and less. Though there were days like today when the longing would linger with him.

After breakfast, Seungkwan lay on the grass beside his mother, who was trying to fill out the crossword in the newspaper. Seungkwan rested on his back, his hands on his stomach and eyes closed. The air still felt morning fresh - he took a deep breath of it.

“Nine letters, sweet red fruit containing many seeds,” his mother read from the paper. Seungkwan could hear her pen tapping on the surface as she thought.

Seungkwan thought for a moment. “_Melograno_. That’s an easy one.”

“Oh, I haven’t woken up yet, have I?” she uttered as her pen scratched, writing down the word.

Or maybe Seungkwan answered that one so quickly because he had pomegranate with his breakfast. He watched his mother close the paper and set it down. She lay onto her back and pulled down her sunglasses to rest over her closed eyes.

Seungkwan remained on his front, running his fingers through the grass.

“How was yesterday, hm? I never got a chance to ask what with your sisters telling me about Venice.”

“It was good to spend time with Mingyu. We ate at that restaurant we visited ages ago. The one close to that statue of _Dante Alighieri_ that you loved. It was nice to go back. Mingyu seemed to enjoy it too.”

“He’s doing well, isn’t he? In America?” she asked him.

“Yeah, he’s staying there even longer. He really loves it there. Seems like he’s made some good friends, I’m happy for him.” Seungkwan’s mother didn’t say anything, but he heard her voice her contentment through a short hum. He carried on, “I think he’s gonna stay with Wonwoo,” but his voice trailed off as he was taken away by a bumblebee that hovered around his hands for a moment.

“I like that boy Hansol,” his mother spoke up. Seungkwan peered over his shoulder at her.

“You do?”

“Yes, he helped me with the orchard on Sunday, when you went inside,” she said softly, swatting a fly away from her face. Seungkwan didn’t know that. But that sounded like something Hansol would do. His mother chuckled. “He’s very friendly, isn’t he? We had a lovely conversation.”

“Yeah?” Seungkwan tried to adjust his tone as if to be saying,_ tell me more_.

His mother nodded. “He said that-”

“Mother!” Sojeong’s voice interrupted her sentence. “Could you help me find my hairdryer? It’s totally gone!” she shouted from the patio. Seungkwan watched his mother sigh and get up, taking her newspaper and pen with her as she headed inside.

“You watch, I’ll find it right away! You never look properly, Sojeong,” she chuckled before she was inside the house and gone. 

Seungkwan shifted onto his back again and sighed with drama. He brought his hand above him, against the empty sky, and wiggled his fingers. Sunlight danced between the gaps.

Did he really just try to invade his mother’s conversation with Hansol? Was he truly that longing to know? If he was thinking sensibly, he knew they would have only talked about the weather or something pointless like that. Yet still, in the back of his mind, he wanted to know if his name was uttered between them. Burning curiosity.

He sat up. This was ridiculous. _He _was being ridiculous. He shook his head and tittered to himself as he got to his feet.

In the afternoon, Seungkwan played catch in the garden with his sisters. He’d found an old and tattered tennis ball amidst the clutter of the attic. Seungkwan didn’t think he could come up to this attic anymore without _that _day springing to mind. The touch of Hansol’s hands on his bare skin, his fingers digging into his arms when they play-wrestled. _God_, he hoped Hansol hadn’t noticed how much it’d got to him.

Seungkwan left the attic and those thoughts with it. He threw the tennis ball up and down, coming through the kitchen and embracing Greta before stepping into the garden.

“What is _that_?!” Sojeong scoffed with her eyes on the worn ball in Seungkwan’s palm. He stepped onto the grass and threw it up to her. With a huff, Sojeong reached up and caught it.

“That’s our ball since someone didn’t wanna use the volleyball,” Seungkwan said with snark, grinning at Sojeong.

“It’s much too heavy, have you ever been hit by that thing?” she defended, picking at the tennis ball.

Seungkwan just laughed at her and watched her throw it to Jinseol. They formed a triangle in the clearing of the garden, passing the ball around and chatting. Fortunately, Seungkwan was stood beneath the shade of a tree. Sojeong suggested a rule that if they dropped the ball, they must ‘lose a limb’. It certainly made things more interesting.

Sojeong was currently standing on one leg with one arm folded behind her back.

“You’re not very good at catching, are you?” Jinseol chuckled. Seungkwan couldn’t hold back his laughter as he watched Sojeong wobble on her foot when she reached for the ball, only just managing to catch it.

She wailed, “you’re killing me!”

And Seungkwan thought _he _was dramatic.

“Sojeong, don’t say things like that,” their mother scolded lazily from across the garden where she was on her knees, clipping at the flowerbeds and wearing her gardening gloves.

Seungkwan noticed Jinseol’s winning smile to Sojeong after Mother’s scolding. He caught the ball from Sojeong before it went over his head.

“What was Venice like?” He wanted to ask them last night when they got back, but he was so worn out from the day that he’d withdrawn straight to his bed when he returned home. Venice, he had visited many times with his family. Some of those with his father.

“So, _so _busy. We didn’t take a gondola ride, no way. It’s totally not worth it,” Jinseol said. Seungkwan could agree with her. He had taken it once with his mother and a few tourists, and couldn’t find the romantic aspect of it, considering the cost.

“We had a better time on land, anyway,” Sojeong added, catching the ball. “There was this funky bar, and we danced and sang karaoke! They took karaoke quite seriously there.” Seungkwan loved karaoke - he would love to visit a karaoke bar here with everyone. He wondered what Hansol sounded like when he sang.

“It was pleasing to just walk around, though, during the afternoon. Just, getting lost.” That was one of Seungkwan’s favourite things to do with his father when they visited the cities.

He glanced across to where his mother was - she’d gone back inside now.

“Do you ever miss Father?”

Jinseol caught the ball and kept it in her grip. Seungkwan shuffled his bare feet in the grass and flitted his gaze between his sisters. It wasn’t regular between them, to bring up the subject of their father. Sometimes, as the youngest, Seungkwan felt as if he was the only one in the family who didn’t have full closure on his father.

Sojeong spoke first, “‘Course we do. But it’s best not to dwell on it too long.”

Jinseol threw the ball again, landing in Sojeong’s cupped hands.

_Why did he go? _Was a question Seungkwan never concerned to voice. Yet he wanted to today. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip.

“People come and go, Seungkwannie,” Jinseol said quietly.

“_Shit!_” Sojeong hissed when the ball hit the floor, out of her reach.

“Stop cursing so much, Sojeong,” Jinseol snapped all of a sudden. “You do it far too much.”

“I don’t! You’re just like Mother,” Sojeong bit back, bending down to pick up the ball from the grass, her chestnut hair falling in her face. When she dipped her head and slipped her hair back behind her ear, Seungkwan could hear her mutter something petty.

Before Jinseol could reply, Seungkwan interjected, “I don’t think we should play anymore.” He didn’t like where this was going, his sister’s bickering.

Seungkwan spent dusk in the campervan. He still had the tennis ball with him. Right now, he sat on the floor with his back against the bed, bouncing the ball across the ground so it hit the back of the driver’s seat and into his hand again. Over and over.

The idea that it had been his fault that the air turned tense this afternoon was tormenting him. He shouldn’t have mentioned Father. It felt pointless to miss him. Perhaps that was the honest reason he’d come here, to the camper.

Seungkwan didn’t want to cry, but his attempt to hold back became futile when tears brimmed on his lashline. He kept throwing the ball despite the tears blurring his vision. 

Who was it he was actually longing? His father? His mother’s reassurance? Or his friends, or Hansol? Hansol. He cursed himself for striving to ignore Hansol’s friendship lately. Hansol had done nothing wrong.

When his cheeks turned hot with falling tears, Seungkwan lost focus with the ball. It ended up rolling outside the camper. He left it. He brought his knees to his chest and sniffled.

The blue nail polish was still here on the shelf where Hansol had left it. Seungkwan hadn’t moved it. He wiped his eyes and stood up to take the bottle, then sat down on the bed, gazing down at the sky blue colour. It hadn’t seemed like Hansol had noticed that the blue was washed from his nails, the day after he’d put it on. Maybe he’d simply thought nothing of it. Seungkwan would have probably lied to him anyway if he’d asked.

Seungkwan dried cheeks and his eyes. He couldn’t cry forever. He got up from the bed and stepped out the camper to fetch the ball. But he stopped at the doorway.

“Hansol.”

Hansol stood a few feet away with the tennis ball in his hand.

“I, uh, I was just about to see if you were here.” He breathed out, a hint of a smile on his mouth. “And you are.” He gazed up at Seungkwan with his sparkling brown eyes.

Seungkwan rubbed his eye with his knuckle, conscious that it was evident he had been crying. He didn’t actually know what to say.

Hansol turned on his back foot and dropped the ball in the grass. “I’ll- I’ll go. I think I should go now-”

“Hansol,” Seungkwan called out to the back of him.

Hansol stopped _instantly_.

“Stay with me,” Seungkwan’s voice faded to a tiny mutter, “please...”

When Hansol turned to face him again, standing in the grass with the dipping orange sun behind him, Seungkwan was overcome with emotion and impulse. He skipped the bottom step and rushed across to Hansol, wrapping his arms around his body and pulling him in urgently.

A startled grunt fell from Hansol’s lips when he stumbled back due to Seungkwan’s desperate force. But his arms soon slipped out of his hold to hold Seungkwan’s back.

“Seungkwan, what-”

Seungkwan pressed harder as if pleading Hansol to say nothing but console him silently. Physically. He dipped his head over Hansol’s shoulder and clasped onto his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Hansol’s hand rubbed his back lightly. “What for? Don’t apologise. I really don’t like hearing that from you, you know,” his voice was low and sincere.

“I-” Seungkwan was going to apologise again. It was in his nature, to always try to atone. “Why are you here?”

“I dunno, I just really wanted to see you. Your mom said you were down here.” He paused. “Made me wonder if you were missing your dad.”

Seungkwan felt like crying again; knowing Hansol had remembered what he’d told him when he first showed him this place. He stepped out of Hansol’s embrace. Hansol’s hand rubbed the top of his arm and slowly trailed down, lingering at the fingertips before he brought his hand away.

“I missed you,” Seungkwan mumbled, lightly punching Hansol’s chest, resting his knuckles there for a moment. Hansol smiled. The sight was like a gentle kiss on both of Seungkwan’s eyes.

“It’s only been, like, four days since we talked properly.”

“You’ve been counting?”

Totally unashamed, Hansol confirmed. It knocked Seungkwan back; that was something he wouldn’t ever admit to. Hansol did, unphased.

“Because I care about you,” he declared. “Didn’t I tell you at the lake? I can be that friend.”

Seungkwan felt like a fool. He hadn’t been allowing Hansol to be a friend at all lately. He dipped his head. “I’m sor-”

Hansol’s finger pressed against his lips. “Don’t say it!” he laughed, a playful spark in his eye.

“What do you want me to say?” Seungkwan asked, voice muffled behind Hansol’s unmoving finger. A huge grin sparked on Hansol’s mouth.

“Hmmm. You could say that Hansol is the most handsome-“

“Forget it,” Seungkwan scoffed and pressed his palms against Hansol’s chest, shoving him lightly. Hansol giggled as he staggered back. Seungkwan didn’t realise how much he needed to hear Hansol’s sweet laughter. It healed him. A remedy. That’s what Hansol’s laughter felt like.

Seungkwan turned to walk back to the camper, trying to forget the feeling of Hansol’s hard chest beneath his palms.

“Seungkwan, look at me.”

It was Seungkwan’s turn to stop. He listened to Hansol’s approaching footsteps in the grass. When his trainers were in his lowered view, he lifted his head to meet Hansol’s eyes. Seungkwan could tell he was thinking from the fine line between his brows and his slightly wrinkled chin.

His hand came up to Seungkwan’s face and his thumb swiped beneath his damp lash line. Seungkwan held his breath. Hansol’s touch was warm.

“What is it?” he asked. His hand dropped again and Seungkwan could relax.

“What is what?” He knew exactly what Hansol meant.

“What’s on your mind?”

Instinctively, Seungkwan brought his hands in front of him to mess with his fingers. “...Can I ask you a question? About your mother?”

Hansol shrugged. “Sure,” he said softly, his low voice almost nothing but a whisper.

Seungkwan took a breath and dropped his gaze for a moment before locking eyes with Hansol again. His heart was in his throat - or were those his emotions swelling. He didn’t know how to word it all.

“I just- Do you ever get that feeling like one day she’ll come back? Like you still have hope even though you know the answer,” he muttered his words towards the end in fear that he’d said too much for Hansol - and too much of himself.

Hansol's face softened. Seungkwan watched his mouth open slightly but quickly shut again. Like he dismissed whatever he was about to say.

The crickets filled the silence.

“I do,” Hansol eventually broke through it. “I really do.” Seungkwan watched his gaze drop. “I’ve never thought about that before but you’re so right.”

Seungkwan’s question had brought an entire evening of wading through their liquid hearts that were solid only a mere hour ago.

They sat together in the grass with their backs against the camper. Seungkwan listened to Hansol talk about all of the ways that he’d keep himself from spiralling into that deep void of painfully missing somebody. Seungkwan’s favourite idea of Hansol’s was to talk to them. Hansol said he often spoke to his mother like she was listening.

Seungkwan knew that his father was nowhere near as inaccessible as Hansol’s mother was, but he didn’t think that mattered right now.

To listen to Hansol’s voice so sincere again made his heart throb.

The day had lost its light by now, replaced with gentle moon-glow. Though the air was still warm for Seungkwan to feel comfortable in just the t-shirt and shorts he had on now. Hansol sat close beside him, close enough so Seungkwan could feel the heat of his body.

He watched him twist his wrist so he could catch the moonlight onto his watch.

“Almost ten.”

Seungkwan let the back of his head hit the camper with a quiet thud. “My mother is going to kill me.”

Hansol huffed out a short laugh. “Is she really?”

Seungkwan stood up and held out his hand to help Hansol onto his feet. Hansol clasped firmly, almost pulling Seungkwan back down with him. He stumbled on his feet a little.

“Maybe not,” he grunted and pulled him up. Hansol let go of his hand to brush himself off. “But she won’t be happy I missed supper.” Seungkwan’s family didn’t usually have supper unless his mother wanted to wind down with them, or if there were guests who’d stayed a bit longer.

“I see,” Hansol tried to say as he yawned, his mouth open as wide as ever. Seungkwan took the opportunity. He poked his two fingers into Hansol’s mouth. He didn’t go too deep, only enough for Hansol to grimace and swat his hand away.

Seungkwan tried to deny his internal hopes that Hansol would’ve clamped down on his fingers. He didn’t think he’d have ever felt the wetness of Hansol’s tongue on his fingertips before.

“Come here!” Hansol yelled once Seungkwan fleeted and laughed. His voice echoing among the trees and disturbing a small flock of birds.

Seungkwan ended up running away from Hansol all the way to the gate at the bottom of the garden. Through his own breathy giggling, he could hear Hansol as he called out for Seungkwan and laughed too.

“_Hey_!” 

“_No!_” Seungkwan chuckled through heavy panting as he was forced against the short fence to tussle with Hansol. There it was again - the weight of Hansol against his ribcage, and his hands grabbing onto him again as Seungkwan tried to fight out of his hold.

Seungkwan was indeed breathless.

They walked back and tried to catch their breath. Hansol persisted on nudging Seungkwan’s shoulder with his own, and Seungkwan caught a glimpse of his grin.

Strangely, he knew Hansol’s smile was genuine from the way his gums flashed.

Gleaming through the orchard, there was warm light at the patio. The soft string lights were still turned on, draped across the trees surrounding the dining table that Jinseol and Greta were emptying.

“Hansol. Gosh, I thought you left ages ago,” Jinseol said as they approached. She was picking up the silverware and Seungkwan kissed her head as he passed her. He glimpsed over his shoulder to catch Hansol briefly dip his head and flash a closed smile to her.

“You’ll never get rid of me,” he joked. But from the way he locked eyes with Seungkwan, who was still looking back, changed everything about his words.

Through the hallway, Seungkwan walked beside him. They passed the living room where the television could be heard quietly. He guessed his mother was in there. Not a word was uttered until they reached the front door. Seungkwan watched Hansol open it and step out.

He turned around.

“I’m sorry you miss your dad, Seungkwan,” he said.

Seungkwan rubbed a hand through his own hair and shrugged. He didn’t actually know what he could say to that. So, he feigned a glare and pointed his finger at the boy.

“What happened about ‘don’t apologise’?” he played a threatening tone. Hansol broke into a grin.

“That was for you, not me!”

Seungkwan dipped his head and smiled too. When he looked up, he shortly touched Hansol’s chest with the back of his hand, adding the slightest pressure to push him back.

“Go. Before they start to miss you.”

Hansol did so, turning his back to Seungkwan. When he was almost out of sight, close to the gate, Seungkwan went to close the door.

“Seungkwan!” Hansol yelled. Seungkwan peered through the gap he was yet to shut. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Seungkwan nodded and smiled. “See you tomorrow.”


	6. When Desire Is Conceived...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this one <3  
[twitter](https://twitter.com/peachkwan1)  
[moodboard](https://weheartit.com/peachkwan/collections/154152605-)  
[playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3sfWyg0duyDS4qJCKMvLbs?si=eGkApsQVQ_6-cvr6a5_Ukg)

Seungkwan visited the bakery this morning. Actually, he was glad to be out so early—as early as to have just missed the sunrise. It would be assumed that everything should be awakening by now. But all was still. His mother had sent him, when she’d woken up, to pick up some orange brioche. Just a small something that she and Jinseol enjoyed from this bakery specifically. It was nice for Seungkwan to catch some fresh air that was so replenishing at this time.

It was also nice to be accompanied by Hansol.

“You seemed tired last night. You should’ve slept in,” Seungkwan said but the truth was, he couldn’t have been more delighted that it was Hansol by his side. His sleepy eyes and drowsy pout were charming to see - a blessing. He couldn’t help but smile when he’d opened the door earlier to the sight of Hansol like this, lazily rubbing a hand through his hair and yawning.

He’d always been pleased whenever sharing the company of Hansol. (More than he’d like to admit to.) Even when he had tried his best to avoid it for the most recent days. Seeing him and talking to him last night helped Seungkwan come to terms that he couldn’t bypass this all summer - there was simply no way. Truly, he didn’t want to.

Hansol shrugged. Seungkwan smiled.

He turned to the bakery display where a fresh warmth reached his face. There was no other customer since the place had only just opened up, so there was no rush. As his eyes scanned over the pastries, he listened to Hansol’s roaming footsteps behind him. As a kid, on those occasions that Seungkwan was sent to the bakery, he was usually overwhelmed with the temptation to spend his mother’s money on a treat for himself. Not once had he ever done so, no matter how enticingly sweet the cannoli had looked. He’d never given in because his mother would’ve certainly been cross, and then he would have been cross with himself.

Seungkwan spotted the brioche and pointed out the bread for the baker to wrap in a brown paper bag. He paid with the money his mother had given and thanked the lady. When he turned around, Hansol wasn’t paying attention; he was instead admiring a display of fresh bakes with his back to Seungkwan. Seungkwan tapped his shoulder on his way out.

“Get what you wanted?” Hansol asked over the small chime of the bell when Seungkwan opened the door. He held it open for Hansol and nodded. Their bodies were close for a split second as Hansol slid past. They stepped out into the sunlight and grabbed their bikes. He had attached the small wicker basket to the front of his bike this morning so he could carry the bread.

Cycling along the country roads, Seungkwan caught a glimpse of Hansol with his mouth wide open and his eyes shut tightly for a flash. He had been yawning so much this morning that Seungkwan wondered if his jaw ached by now. When they got off their bikes and walked them as they approached Seungkwan’s house, he asked, “Didn’t you sleep well?”

“I think the heat kept me up,” Hansol said with his eyes trained on his colourful trainers. Seungkwan actually thought the air was significantly cooler last night. “Or the farm dog, he was barking all night.”

“Enzo? He’s so gentle. Do you have a dog?” Seungkwan let Hansol step through the wicket gate first.

Hansol shook his head. “I’m more of a cat person.”

Seungkwan chuckled. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Seungkwan handed the bread to Greta in the kitchen and headed with Hansol upstairs where they retreated to his bedroom. Hansol immediately fell onto Seungkwan’s bed with a groan. He was on his back, arms stretched out and legs hanging off the edge. Seungkwan smiled down at him and crossed the room to open the balcony doors, unlocking them with a click and swinging them open to invite the tones of the outdoors.

When he turned around, Hansol’s eyes were closed and his stomach was rising and falling at a tranquil pace.

“Hansol-ah.”

“_Mm_?” he croaked, eyes remaining shut. He slipped off his shoes with his feet, one light thud and then another when his trainers hit the hardwood floor.

“Nothing. Get some rest,” Seungkwan half-whispered. He stood and listened to Hansol’s deep breathing—shyly gazing down at his soft face, his gentle cast—before he left him to sleep. Closing the door, he chose to keep it ajar, only a little.

For however long Hansol was asleep, it was all that lingered in Seungkwan’s mind. Like sunlight in the evening. Hansol hadn’t been in Seungkwan’s bedroom that much at all, but already, he was comfortable enough to fall asleep in the comfort of his bed.

“Where did Hansol go?” Jinseol asked him when they were watching television in the living room. Well, Seungkwan was not really watching it. His spinning thoughts refused to let him. He rested his legs over Jinseol’s lap, with his back on the arm of the sofa.

“Sleeping,” he said quietly, too occupied with trying to immerse himself into the television show.

“Sleeping?”

“He was falling asleep, so I let him rest.”

Jinseol didn’t say anything. She wrapped her hand around Seungkwan’s shin and squeezed gently. It was almost like a reassuring squeeze, as he caught her look at him with her omniscient eyes.

“Thanks for getting the bread, by the way. There’s some left if you want it?” she said.

Seungkwan shook his head. “Sojeong can have it.” He knew Sojeong would enjoy it more.

“Hansol left here late, didn’t he? Last night.” Jinseol spoke mindlessly as she stared at the television across from them. Seungkwan wasn’t going to tell her that he’d cried about Father yesterday.

“We lost track of time, I guess,” he tried to say without a smile creeping out from his teeth as the images of last night with Hansol flashed in his mind.

“I saw you both at the fence… You glow when you’re with him.” Jinseol was smiling.

Seungkwan shrugged. “Well, he’s a good friend,” he muttered.

“Hey,” Jinseol spoke softer and squeezed his shin again, so Seungkwan met her gaze. “You can always talk to me. I know Sojeong is closer to your age, but-”

Seungkwan wriggled out of his sister’s embrace and stood up. “I know. I can talk to you.”

After an hour or so of reading books in the study room, Seungkwan grew tired of waiting for Hansol to wake up. He left to see if he had. He pushed the door open but not far enough for it to squeak, then peered his head around. Hansol was still asleep.

Perhaps it was a selfish decision, but Seungkwan edged lightly into the room and shuffled to the bathroom. He stood at the toilet and dropped his hand on the flush. When he looked directly across, through the open archway, Hansol shot up at the sound of the toilet flush. He sat up, his figure against the view of the balcony. 

“Sorry. I didn’t think that would wake you,” Seungkwan spoke as the noise calmed down. He tried to act as convincing as possible without letting the truth shine through - the truth that Seungkwan greedily didn’t want Hansol to sleep any longer because he wanted to look into his open eyes, and hear his voice talk.

“What?” Hansol rasped and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

Seungkwan walked into the bedroom. “I didn’t think that would wake you,” he said softer since he was closer. “Sorry.” Seungkwan realised he’d apologised, but Hansol seemed too half-asleep to notice and scold him.

“Oh. That’s okay.” Hansol sniffed. He held out a hand. Seungkwan took it. Hansol pulled down and Seungkwan let himself move with the force, ultimately sitting on the bed with him. Hansol rubbed his shoulder against Seungkwan’s and smiled sleepily.

“What?” Seungkwan asked, their faces close. He could feel his own lips curved slightly.

“You got the time?” Hansol gently took Seungkwan’s arm and lifted his wrist to his face, to read from his watch. Seungkwan watched him do it. Felt him do it. Felt him squeeze around his wrist and briefly swipe his thumb across the skin before letting go.

Hansol stood up. “Come on. Let’s go for a swim.” He stretched. Seungkwan tried to ignore the lift of his shirt when he raised his arms. “Unless you’re going to say no to me again?” There was a smirk on his lips.

Seungkwan shook his head rapidly. “Just let me get changed.”

“Sure. I’ll be downstairs.” Hansol said before he left the room. Seungkwan waited to hear his footsteps down the staircase so that he could be certain he was gone. And when he was sure that Hansol was downstairs, Seungkwan sighed, his head lolling back to look up at the ceiling. He was going to get up from the bed and change until he peered over his shoulder. In the centre of his bed, there was the messy outline on the bedsheets of where Hansol’s body had slept.

For what felt like so long, Seungkwan did nothing but stare at it, his eyes following the dips in the sheets as the sunlight from the balcony bent shadows across them. He climbed further onto the bed, on his knees, and traced the edges with his finger. And then he slowly dipped his face closer until he surrendered to temptation and buried his face in the sheets. He breathed in. It smelt like Hansol, here where he’d lay. Of faint sunscreen and of Hansol’s own warm scent.

His face still deep the sheets, Seungkwan gripped them in his fists and groaned at the way he was behaving.

_What is wrong with me?_

He didn’t stay there for long. He quickly tried to overlook what he’d just done, and slid off the bed.

He slipped into a pair of swimming trunks - the ones he’d worn on the first night, actually. At a hastened pace now, realising he was taking a sceptically long time, he discarded his shirt and lathered sunscreen onto his torso and face and arms. The thought crossed his mind that Hansol could do with some too. He should’ve brought it down and asked him, but for some reason, his heart tightened at the idea. It could’ve been the foretelling that Hansol might’ve asked Seungkwan to apply it for him.

Seungkwan liked to ride beside Hansol. Liked to match his pace of pedalling, though Hansol’s legs always moved slightly slower on the pedals. Seungkwan could never meet it perfectly.

They reached the sunlit lake where Hansol took off his shirt and his shoes and socks, and promptly leapt into the water with a holler. His shout stretched up to the trees, disturbing the birds. Seungkwan let his bike fall in the grass beside Hansol’s as he smiled at the boy. His face appeared from under the surface - he sighed and whipped his head like a wet dog.

Seungkwan discarded his footwear and copied Hansol’s euphoric cheer, running into the water too. Their laughter overlapped and intertwined in the open air. He felt like a kid again.

He strayed from Hansol to swim further east of the lake. There was the willow tree where he’d disappeared to at the party. He swam beneath it again. How did he endure the summers here without Hansol? Seungkwan never knew how different everything felt here, with him. The cool water of the lake kissed his skin, the shade of the tree was bliss, the still quiet here was a harmony.

He saw Hansol’s body through the draping leaves. “Come here,” he said to him softly.

Hansol turned to him and gently swam beneath the tree to meet him, pushing a vine of leaves out of the way. His expression was delicate. Seungkwan didn’t know why he’d called Hansol to him but for a moment, he stared at him. Watched his collarbones shift beneath his skin as he pushed his arms under the water to swim closer. The high sun was bright, catching the water on Hansol’s skin and making him glisten.

“This is where I found you, isn’t it? _Just _like this. ‘Cause you had the exact same look on your face,” he muttered towards the end into a whisper.

“The look of disgust?” Seungkwan asked jokingly. He flashed a mischievous smile.

Hansol scoffed. “Totally.” His tone was sarcastic, as if he was aware that they both knew the real answer.

They relaxed in the lake until around lunchtime. Seungkwan watched Hansol swim circles around him as they talked about all sorts. He listened to Hansol ramble about high school and all of the memories he had made there. Truthfully, he envied Hansol for going to public school; Seungkwan had no memories to compare.

“I’m jealous. Home school sounds way better. You literally stay at home,” Hansol said. It immediately shocked Seungkwan - they both envied each other in ways. Not sour jealousy, but bittersweet desire. He didn’t know what to say in reply to that. So, he kept quiet.

“Do you think we would’ve been friends if we’d met in high school instead?” Hansol wondered. Seungkwan looked at him, his eyes were on the water that reached their chests.

“I don’t see why not.” He smiled lightly and Hansol looked at him. Seungkwan’s sight dropped to his lips where he could see that he was close to breaking into a smile too.

“Why did we have to meet each other so late?” he asked, and his eyes were sparkling beneath the sun. Seungkwan hadn’t expected such a question. He parted his lips but there were no words on his tongue. “I wish I’d spent my childhood with you,” Hansol continued. “It would’ve been a lot easier.” There was a grin on his mouth at this point. From Hansol’s words to his smile at this moment, Seungkwan’s heart was softening from the heat that spread within his chest.

By now, they’d stopped swimming and were facing each other in the water. Seungkwan watched a drop of water fall from Hansol’s jaw.

“Mine too.”

Their hair and practically dried, by the time they were out of the water. Seungkwan admired Hansol’s thick honey curls as he bent down to tie his laces. There and then, he was faced with another desire. As he stared down at Hansol’s hair.

Seungkwan reached out with his hand, inching closer. A touch was all he craved, to feel just how soft it was. His fingers were inches away when Hansol paused. Seungkwan froze with his fingertips practically grazing against Hansol’s locks. He didn’t even want to breathe.

“You’re allowed to touch, Seungkwan.” Hansol stood up straight. He dipped his head. “Go on.”

Seungkwan did not utter a word, not a sound at all. With hesitance, he reached up to place his palm against the top of Hansol’s head. He was too afraid to go any further, too afraid to move. Until Hansol lifted his hand to place it on the back of his. Hansol weaved his fingers in the gaps between Seungkwan’s fingers, and guided Seungkwan’s hand through his hair.

Seungkwan bit down on his lip to suppress a smile. Hansol was leading his hand through his locks. They were soft like silk against his skin, just as Seungkwan had anticipated. Neither spoke, only the distant birds above did.

Hansol pulled his hand down so Seungkwan was now cupping the side of his face.

“Satisfied?”

Seungkwan’s fingers found their way to Hansol’s ear, where he caressed it. His thumb and forefinger pressed and stroked gently at the tip of his ear and then down to his lobe. Seungkwan could have embraced and touched Hansol’s features all day, with him staring intently down at him and quietly letting him do it all.

He eventually dropped his hand and smiled. “Yes.”

Hansol chuckled and as Seungkwan leaned down to pick up his own bike, he felt Hansol’s arm slide across his shoulders to hook around the back of his neck. His palm landed on his chest and patted. Seungkwan hoped and prayed that Hansol couldn’t feel his heavy heartbeat right now.

But the gesture was brief. His arm was gone once Seungkwan straightened up again.

“Let’s go. I’m hungry,” Hansol said. He climbed onto his bike and began to cycle away.

Seungkwan rubbed the back of his neck. Hansol’s gesture had been so warm, but so quick - had it even happened? Was Seungkwan’s mind so hot with thoughts that he was inventing things now? No, there was dampness on his skin from Hansol’s wet arm, since their bodies were still dripping from the lake.

His mind was not spiralling into burning dreams of desire and want. _It was not._

Seungkwan liked Hansol’s hair - he liked Hansol’s hair a lot. The more he thought about it, as they rode back to the farmhouse, the tone of his thoughts shifted deeper. He glanced to Hansol who cycled ahead of him. He liked all of Hansol, his hair was simply one of those things. Every single detail captivated Seungkwan in the same way that his hair did.

But no, his mind was _not _spiralling into burning dreams of desire and want. _When desire is conceived, it gives birth to sin._

Seungkwan stayed to have lunch with the others. Jisoo had persuaded him at the sight of creamy risotto. They ate outdoors, picking at the salad on the table too. Mingyu praised himself over his own cooking and Wonwoo rolled his eyes after the sixth time he’d done it.

To focus on the conversation around the table felt impossible for Seungkwan. Not when his eyes darted to Hansol without his control. Even the times when Hansol was not talking and only closely listening, Seungkwan found his eyes briefly landing on him instead of Minghao, who was on the topic of Italian politics. (Something Seungkwan didn’t care to indulge in any way.)

But Seungkwan’s staring did not go unshared. Every time Hansol captured his gaze, Seungkwan would linger for a moment, before it would burn and he would have to drop his sight to his plate. It was that hot few seconds when Seungkwan would find the guts to hold Hansol’s stare, when the conversation around him softened and all he could hear was his heart in his ears.

There was never a lunch more intense for Seungkwan.

After eating, Seungkwan helped Jisoo with drying the plates and silverware that he washed. He didn’t want to stay outside seeing as the others were smoking.

“Are you joining our picnic tomorrow? Mingyu and Wonwoo say they have a perfect spot to have it. Somewhere near a spring?” Jisoo asked him as he handed over another plate.

“Sure. Do you have everything you need for it?”

“No, actually. Mingyu’s gonna get the rest of the stuff tomorrow morning if you wanna help him out?”

Seungkwan nodded and slipped another plate onto the dish rack. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  
  


Seungkwan broke his bike the next morning. It was his own fault for letting his competitive side manifest.

He and Mingyu had visited the market to pick up some things for the picnic when Mingyu had challenged him to race back home. Despite Mingyu’s long legs and impressive strength, Seungkwan managed to take the lead. He’d kept it all the way through the countryside until he picked up too much momentum. Causing him to have lost his balance. Across the empty road, his bike twisted and tumbled onto the grass. Seungkwan took quite a hard fall himself, the bare skin of his arms and legs scraping against the hot, dry ground.

It was a harsher blow than the night he’d fallen in front of Hansol, perhaps because he’d landed on the grass that night. He was going to need more than Hansol’s band-aids and gentle fingers to heal him, that was certain.

Mingyu being himself, he’d made a bigger fuss over the entire thing than what Seungkwan found necessary. He almost fell himself when he’d jumped off his own bike to tend to Seungkwan. It turned out that the chain on his bike had snapped, so wheeling it back home was a struggle that Mingyu took into his own hands, giving Seungkwan his bike that would be easier to manage.

He shuffled back home with bloody elbows and shins, and a pain in his back - probably a bruise. As well as Mingyu asking every two minutes if he was okay. It was slightly tiresome after a while, but Seungkwan was endeared to see how much Mingyu was worried for him.

“You really frightened me, Boo!” he barked when they reached the house. They left the bikes outside the front and stepped into the house. Mingyu’s loud concern echoed throughout the rooms as they walked to the kitchen, “I thought you’d broken something! I thought I was going to have to take you to the hospital!”

“Mingyu, come on. It’s okay,” Seungkwan reassured whilst examining the cuts and scrapes on his arms. The sting was cruel.

“What’s wrong?” Jisoo’s voice questioned once they reached the kitchen. “What happened?” he asked, taking the bag of fruits and snacks from Mingyu. Seungkwan took a seat at the dining table, head hung low.

“Seungkwan fell off his bike and now his bike’s broken,” Mingyu told Jisoo as he grabbed the first aid kit from the cupboard. Seeing the little green box with the white cross stirred a Deja vu within Seungkwan. His mind was brought back to Hansol’s_ ‘I wanted to’_. It felt so long ago, even though it was only around two weeks. But so much had happened since then.

Jisoo hissed through his teeth when he glanced from the counter to look at the damage done. “How fast were you going?!” he questioned, emptying the bag on the countertop. He pulled out a mango and figs.

Seungkwan was in too much pain to answer, for Mingyu was already cleaning up the wounds on his legs. He gritted his teeth, fingers curling around the edge of the table. Mingyu had large and clumsy hands—they weren’t as gentle as when Hansol had done this.

“Mingyu, you forgot to get the cheese,” Jisoo complained.

“We already have some, don’t worry,” Mingyu muttered whilst keeping his back to Jisoo, rather focused on Seungkwan’s injuries.

“_Mingyu!_” Seungkwan hissed when a jarring sting shot up his left leg. He’d fought back the sensation to kick his leg out because then he would’ve hurt Mingyu in a much more delicate area...

“There’s a deep cut here,” Mingyu pointed out. “You must’ve caught your ankle somewhere on the bike.” He concentrated so much that the tip of his tongue poked out onto his lips. Seungkwan could feel when he added pressure, wiping at the apparent deep cut on his ankle. He held his doubts for it being as deep as Mingyu was making it out to be; Mingyu had always been a little over the top ever since Seungkwan had known him.

As he sat and fidgeted at the dining table, he watched Jisoo who worked around the kitchen. Right now, he was chopping the mango into cubes. Seungkwan did have breakfast, but he wouldn’t have minded a sweet bite of mango right now.

“You’ll still come, won’t you?” Jisoo kept his eyes low on where he was placing the knife.

Seungkwan gave a sharp nod. “Of course. I can’t miss all this food.”

“You can take the spare bike then,” Mingyu spoke up. “I’ll see if Florenzo can fix yours.”

“But he’s always so busy, I’d feel bad,” Seungkwan said through a pout on his lips.

“Actually, Hansol is good with things like that,” Jisoo brought up, “He fixed my car not long ago. I think his dad taught him a few things.”

Mingyu looked up at Seungkwan. “Oh, well, take it to Hansol, I guess.”

After Mingyu finished doctoring him, Seungkwan went to ask Hansol, who was chatting with Minghao in the backyard, their shins dipped in the pool. He felt like such a nuisance, stepping into their conversation to drop a request onto Hansol. Even when he obliged and Minghao happily let him go.

“Talk later, yeah?” Minghao called out as Seungkwan walked with Hansol back to the house. Hansol looked over his shoulder to nod.

“Deep chat?” Seungkwan wasn’t particularly desperate to know what they’d been talking about, he just wanted to make conversation with Hansol.

Hansol nodded. “You could say that.” They reached the open back door to the dining area, and Hansol stopped. “Go get your bike and I’ll see where there’s a toolbox, or something.” His hand landed on Seungkwan’s head and rustled his hair. It then trailed down to the bottom of his head, to the nape of his neck. And lingered for just a short moment, hardly caressing his neck before he was stepping into the house, leaving Seungkwan in the sun.

Seungkwan walked through the house, to retrieve his bike, with his fingers touching where Hansol had just touched. His lips curved. Hansol had reached out for Seungkwan’s hair as if it was nothing - entirely unlike Seungkwan’s timid approach yesterday.

Once he’d brought his damaged bike to the backyard, Hansol seemed to have found the tools he wanted, and was already waiting. Waiting on a garden chair, ankle over knee, shoulders and back relaxed.

Seungkwan walked across the patio and Hansol stood up. He handed the bike over and explained the problem. Hansol instantly lowered to the ground to take a look.

“Oh, it’s an easy fix,” he answered Seungkwan, propping the bike up to get to work. Seungkwan couldn’t stop muttering his gratitude to the boy. “Stop thanking me, Seungkwan. It’s no problem,” he said softly.

_I don’t deserve you, Chwe Hansol..._

Seungkwan stood behind him, shuffling his feet on the stone patio where the grass had grown through. The sun was making Hansol’s naked back shine, and Seungkwan’s eyes were drawn to the glister. Lured to the sight of his back muscles that worked as he tampered with the bike. Hansol wasn’t as built as a man like Mingyu, but he was still defined. Seungkwan observed the movement of Hansol’s shoulder blades, and all of the faint muscles rippling down his back.

He was almost ashamed for letting himself look for so long.

A minute or two had gone by as he stood there, skin flushed, listening to the indistinct chatter between Mingyu and Jisoo back in the kitchen.

“You don’t have to wait around in this heat,” he heard Hansol say, pulling his consciousness to the front of his mind. “Unless you want to, of course.”

Seungkwan chose to hang around, pulling out a chair from the garden table, facing Hansol’s front instead. He rested the point of his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into his palm, not necessarily watching down on Hansol, but talking to him nonetheless.

“What happened this time?” Hansol asked in such a calm manner that it almost seemed insouciant. He glanced at Seungkwan’s patched up ankle that was locked with his other.

Seungkwan dropped his gaze from the empty sky. “Why don’t you put two and two together?” he sassed in a light-hearted manner, an impish smile on his lips as he gestured to his bike. Hansol dropped his now mucky hands from the bike and sent a scoff over to Seungkwan. Despite the bike almost hiding Hansol’s face, he was able to see the amused curve in his lips.

“You know, I don’t have to do this,” he bit back with the same amount of playfulness in his tone. It only fuelled the spirited spark within Seungkwan today.

“Okay, don’t,” he said and leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t do it.” He was grinning down at Hansol.

Hansol remained silent and shook his head, still smiling. He picked up his tools and went back to fixing the bike. Seungkwan knew that would be his reaction. He knew Hansol couldn’t _not _do it.

A minute later, he spoke, “But really, are you okay?” He kept his focus on the bike.

Seungkwan nodded anyway, glancing down at his ankle. “Yeah.” Blunt answer. “Are _you _okay?”

Hansol looked up and frowned. “I didn’t fall off my bike, you did.” He pointed the spanner in his hand to Seungkwan’s direction.

“I know, but are you?” Seungkwan didn’t know what he was saying. He shuffled in his seat.

Hansol dipped his head to concentrate on the back wheel of the bike. “I’m perfect, thanks. How couldn’t I be, in paradise?” Paradise—something that Seungkwan found virtually unobtainable. If Hansol was in ‘paradise’, Seungkwan anticipated the fall. Adam and Eve were once in paradise until temptation swelled to the point of surrender. Seungkwan wondered what Hansol’s forbidden fruits would be, what his temptations were.

“Not sick of me yet, huh?” Seungkwan questioned jokingly.

Hansol muttered under his breath, so quietly that the twittering birds almost made Seungkwan struggle to hear what he said. “Don’t be stupid.”

Hansol was finished with Seungkwan’s bike in perfect timing to leave for the picnic. Mingyu left to retrieve Wonwoo who was upstairs and most likely lost in a book. Hansol took that time to wash the dirt off his hands. And by the time they were cycling through the countryside, it was early noon. Mingyu wanted to lead them to a spring, somewhere even Seungkwan had never been before. They followed him through the fields, the tall grass tickling Seungkwan’s feet and ankles. Ahead of him, Mingyu hollered out what could only be an exclaim of joy, bringing Jisoo and Hansol to copy, their voices melting into the hot summer air. Seungkwan smiled at their boyish charm. It felt oddly freeing to let his bike roll down the gentle bank—with the breeze on his face—not having to pedal at all.

The field sloped until it reached a lining of trees. And there, down the slope, was the sweet, shallow spring.

“How do you know about this place?” Jisoo asked as everyone dropped their bikes into a collective pile under one flourishing tree. Everybody was still catching their breath.

Seungkwan watched Mingyu flash his canines when he smiled with pride. “Wonwoo and I came upon it the other day,” he said and shared a glance with Wonwoo, who was wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

Seungkwan walked across to overlook the still spring, glistening and clear. “It’s beautiful.”

Minghao had brought a throw blanket with him for everybody to sit on, and Jisoo placed the basket down that he’d carried on his bike. Seungkwan sat down on the white throw, soft on his bare legs. Hansol sat beside him, chatting to Jisoo on the other side of the basket. Seungkwan tried to ignore that Hansol’s knee came into contact with his every time he shifted in the slightest.

Seungkwan enjoyed the food; olives, sun-dried tomatoes and aubergines, and the bread and prosciutto. The fruits were his favourite, watermelon, figs, strawberries, mango. Minghao basked in the wine most, twirling his wrist to make the liquid swirl in his glass. Seungkwan stuck to the fresh apricot juice.

“Minghao, how much longer are you staying with us?” Jisoo perked up, taking an olive into his mouth. Seungkwan had forgotten that Minghao had so many other places to be. He was going to miss Minghao, even after such a short time to get to know him.

“I’m gonna leave on Tuesday. I’ve stayed here much longer than I intended,” he chuckled. Seungkwan was glad he enjoyed it here so much.

“That’s close,” Mingyu whined. “Where are you going after this?”

“Greece,” Minghao answered, “then Berlin and so on…”

“This is where Minghao finds his wife, on this trip, I know it,” Mingyu joked, taking the last piece of mango. Seungkwan scowled at him; he’d had his eye on that.

Minghao shook away Mingyu’s assumption. “I don’t think so,” he chuckled.

As they carried on talking, Seungkwan enjoyed contributing, until he felt a tap on his thigh. Hansol was getting up, and signalling Seungkwan to do the same. He followed Hansol to the spring, discarding their shoes and socks. Hansol took Seungkwan’s hand to guide him down the slope down to the water surrounded by woodland. It only came up to just above his ankles, and it was strikingly cold compared to the heat they’d been sitting in all afternoon.

Seungkwan bent his knees, to lean over and dip his hands into the pure water. He caught his distorted reflection in the light of the surface. And then he managed to catch Hansol’s reflection that appeared beside him. He was smiling.

Seungkwan took the chance to catch Hansol off guard. He cupped his hands and threw the water into his face. He couldn’t help but laugh at Hansol’s stunned expression - tongue in cheek and challenging gaze. Seungkwan took the challenge. And splashed him again. Hansol splashed him back.

“Hey!”

“What?” Hansol said in reply to Seungkwan’s exclaim. “You don’t want me to splash you back?” He splashed Seungkwan again, and Seungkwan stumbled back, giggling. He couldn’t say anything, so he kicked the water at Hansol and pouted. The ends of his hair were dripping by now, t-shirt damp and the skin beneath visible. Seungkwan’s eyes dropped to where his shirt clung to his abdomen, but he didn’t look for long.

“You’re all wet,” Hansol said, and Seungkwan watched his eyes run down his body. Seungkwan folded his arms over his chest.

“I wonder why,” he uttered and walked past Hansol, letting his elbow nudge Hansol’s side as he did. He smiled to himself and dipped his head. Aware of his actions. Aware of Hansol’s too.

He walked with the intent of Hansol to follow, but then he heard a splash. Mingyu and the others had joined them and Hansol was in the midst of their water fight. Seungkwan watched him—wide grin, wet shirt, resonant laugh.

“Seungkwan!” Wonwoo called out through a smile. He was making his way over, water dancing around his ankles with each stride. Wonwoo’s pale skin was incredibly bright under the sunlight, his full arms exposed as he wore a sleeveless shirt. “Did you find something?” he asked, most likely confused as to why Seungkwan was a distance away from everyone else.

He shook his head, now wishing he had found something. “No. Just cooling down.” He glanced up at the tree they were under.

“Oh,” Wonwoo panted. He ran his slim fingers through his hair. He stepped to stand beside Seungkwan. They watched the boys carry on splashing each other like children.

“So, you found this place with Mingyu?” Seungkwan brought up.

“Yeah, it was a stroke of serendipity, really. I really like to hang out with him here,” he spoke under his breath almost. But Seungkwan’s ears were pricked. They usually had to be with Wonwoo, anyway.

“Is Mingyu your best friend?” Seungkwan looked to Wonwoo now, and Wonwoo returned his gaze.

“Mingyu’s my soulmate,” he replied so naturally.

Soulmate. How did you know when you’d found your soulmate? Did it develop over time? Or was it an instant ‘knowing’? Seungkwan found it funny because, in a way, Wonwoo and Mingyu were hardly similar. Mingyu was eccentric and bouncy, and Wonwoo rather took a little time to warm up to people. But Wonwoo still found that they were soulmates.

“I know Mingyu told you about the ring. I just wanted to say, I don’t usually do stuff like that. I’m not rich, not at all” Wonwoo chuckled rather nervously.

“Don’t feel insecure about it. I thought it was really sweet. You’re a wonderful friend, Wonwoo,” Seungkwan said and delighted in watching a shy smile transpire upon Wonwoo’s lips as he dipped his head.

After playing around in the water, Mingyu suggested a game of hide and seek. As childish as it was, nobody opposed the idea. Mingyu counted first and everybody scattered, trying to keep their footsteps quiet in the water. Seungkwan spotted a cluster of thick ferns that he was going to head for, when a hand grabbed onto his own. He could recognize by the texture and the heat that it was Hansol. He twisted his body around to look at him.

“Hide with me,” he whispered through a childlike smile, already beginning to drag Seungkwan aside, back up the slope. Seungkwan followed willingly. He tried to pretend the sting in his ankle wasn’t there as they sprinted past their bikes and across the sunny field, to where there was a large tree stood on its own. Hansol began to climb it.

“Come on!” he encouraged and turned to hold out his hand. Seungkwan smiled up at him and took it. He pulled himself up and they climbed higher until there was a decent branch for them to sit securely on. Seungkwan kept close to him, overlooking the scene before them and listening to Mingyu shout as he searched. Hansol laughed and Seungkwan felt the sudden weight on his shoulder as Hansol had dropped his head on it. His hair tickled Seungkwan’s cheek, and he couldn’t resist the urge to let his head lean against the top of his.

“He’ll never find us here.”

Perhaps, that day, Seungkwan understood what Hansol meant by paradise.

Late within the next day, he went into town with Hansol. After the picnic yesterday, the chain on his bike had snapped again when he left the others to ride home. He didn’t tell Hansol; he didn’t want to ask from him again. Instead, he made up the excuse that his sister was borrowing his bike today.

“We can just walk there, yeah?” Seungkwan suggested, shifting weight between his feet. He watched Hansol grab his own bike and climb on. He twisted around to pat his hand on the silver rack above the rear wheel.

“Hop on,” was all he said.

Seungkwan struggled over his words of refusal. But Hansol insisted. He leaned across to tug on the end of Seungkwan’s t-shirt, pulling him closer. Seungkwan struck his hand away before he pulled too high.

“Hansol…”

“What? Come on, I’m not letting you walk that far with the state you’re in,” Hansol persisted. His tender eyes flitted to the dressings on Seungkwan’s legs and ankle.

“It’s just a few cuts and scrapes-”

“Seungkwan, get on.”

Seungkwan huffed, his shoulders dropping. “Fine.” He straddled over the back wheel and sat down on the rack.

“You’re gonna have to hold on if you wanna stay on the bike,” Hansol chuckled. Seungkwan let Hansol take his arms and wrap them around his torso. “Keep close,” Hansol murmured, “and put your feet on those pegs down there.” Seungkwan did as he was told.

“Yes, boss,” he said under his breath. When Hansol looked over his shoulder, Seungkwan could only smile.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Hansol turned around after two hot seconds. He pedalled gently from the side of the house to the gate. Mingyu was out the front, smoking a cigarette. He unlocked the gate for them, to save the hassle.

“Where’re you guys headed?” he asked after stepping back, blowing out a mouthful of smoke. It was around 5 pm, after an early dinner - Mingyu was probably worried they were leaving without him for a party or something.

“Nowhere in particular,” Hansol simply said. His foot was ready to push on the pedal as he looked over his shoulder. Seungkwan was turned to look at Mingyu as well. He was too afraid to let his face be so close to Hansol’s if he faced the other way.

“Oh. Well, stay safe!” Mingyu cast a gracious smile and ruffled Seungkwan’s hair.

Seungkwan kept his arms tight around Hansol’s torso. What a sweet excuse to bask in Hansol’s warmth. If Seungkwan he lied about his bike, he wouldn’t be in this position right now. He had come up with an excuse for Hansol not to carry out another favour for him, and this was where it got him: Hansol practically carrying Seungkwan behind him.

“You might be the most generous person I’ve ever met,” Seungkwan said in a hushed voice as Hansol steered down the empty road. It was always quiet around the farmland. He’d felt rather shy to say that. His fingers rested on Hansol’s middle, and he reluctantly dropped his head to rest his cheek on his back, watching the wheat fields that they rode past.

“I dunno,” Hansol dismissed with a short laugh.

“Of course, you wouldn’t believe me…” Seungkwan murmured.

Upon the small impacts of rocks and dips within the route, Seungkwan grasped tighter onto Hansol. Holding his sides turned out to be the most stable option for him. His hands were clutching Hansol’s waist and a heat kindled inside of him. A twist in his lower abdomen, a flush to his face. Seungkwan wasn’t hard, but aroused. Perhaps slightly turned on. Simply to be holding such a sensitive and vulnerable part of Hansol.

Like the day Seungkwan _had _been hard over Hansol, he questioned himself. He was sick, that was it. There was something gravely wrong with him. Yet he could not do anything about it; temptations were compelling.

Seungkwan bit down on his lip and stubbornly tried to focus on the cool breeze instead.

When they reached the town, Hansol wanted to buy something for Minghao before he was to leave.

“What are you gonna get him?” Seungkwan asked. They strolled down a shaded street where vines and flowers grew up the walls of the buildings.

“Dunno. A dope keychain, or somethin’,” Hansol said casually.

Seungkwan scoffed, “Really?! That’s boring, Hansol.” He was not afraid to admit it.

Hansol stopped, so Seungkwan did too. He flashed Seungkwan a look of genuine dismay. “Is it?” he spoke with a pout - Seungkwan adored it.

“What was the last gift you bought for someone?” They stepped to the side to let a family get through the narrow way. Thus, he stood closer to Hansol, their sides leaning against the cold, stone wall of the side of a building.

Hansol looked nice today. He hadn’t done anything different to his face or his hair. Seungkwan simply enjoyed looking at him today, just a little more than any other day.

Hansol glanced up, evidently thinking about his answer. Seungkwan could never get over the curl of his lashes. “I bought my sister some perfume for her birthday.”

Seungkwan couldn’t help but giggle. He rested his hand on Hansol’s shoulder and smiled up at him sweetly. “I’m going to help you choose a gift for Minghao.” It was the least Seungkwan could do for him.

They went through almost every store on the street until Seungkwan helped Hansol decide on a sweet Italian wine for Minghao - one they were positive he would enjoy - along with a book that Hansol chose. Da Vinci.

After stepping out of the old book store, Hansol pulled Seungkwan into a deep hug. Seungkwan was taken aback by the swift gesture. And yet he melted into Hansol’s arms without reluctance. Hansol gently patted Seungkwan’s back.

“Thank you for helping me.” Seungkwan heard him say over his shoulder. And then he pulled out of the hug, coming face to face with the boy. “I owe you one.” He lifted a hand to pat Seungkwan’s cheek. His hand lingered. Before he spun around to fetch his bike.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Seungkwan dismissed, following behind Hansol. “If anything, I owe you.”

“What does that mean?” Hansol sharply turned around again.

Seungkwan didn’t want so answer. 

“What could you possibly owe me?” Hansol was staring at him with those encouraging eyes. He was pushing an answer out of Seungkwan, certainly, but not in a harsh manner.

Seungkwan gazed up at him with eyes that said it all. Eyes that told, _you know, Hansol. Don’t make me say it._

Hansol’s eyes seemed to respond with a look that said, _I want to hear it._

Seungkwan was torn between. He decided to improvise, “I owe you a thank you, for fixing my bike yesterday.”

Hansol dipped his head and took a hand off the handlebars of his bike to dust the seat. There was a weary smile. “You already thanked me, Seungkwan.” He lifted his head again. “Ice cream?” he suggested. Though it didn’t really feel like a suggestion, so Seungkwan nodded.

Hansol bought them both small pots of ice cream. They sat at the fountain in the piazzetta, watching a group of tourists who had just arrived. As Seungkwan ate his ice cream, he noticed the heavy feeling of a pair of eyes upon him. He looked to Hansol, who was staring at the small pot in hands.

“You wanna try some?” Seungkwan questioned, grabbing Hansol’s attention.

Hansol nodded with a closed smile. Seungkwan took this as a chance to scoop up some of the ice cream and lift it close to Hansol’s lips. He was giggling, which made it harder to keep his hand still when Hansol opened his mouth. Seungkwan slipped the plastic spoon into his mouth, and Hansol closed it, taking the ice cream.

“This is stupid,” Seungkwan chuckled to himself, scooping up another piece of ice cream. 

“I wish I bought strawberry now, it tastes better than the vanilla,” Hansol said, and Seungkwan brought the ice cream up unannounced, thinking he’d catch Hansol’s open mouth in time. Instead, the ice cream collided with his closed lips.

Seungkwan’s eyes widened and he apologised quietly. He reached out to use his thumb to wipe the ice cream from Hansol’s lips. But before he could do anything, Hansol leaned back somewhat.

“It’s okay,” he said bluntly, licking his lips and wiping the remnants from his chin with the back of his hand.

Seungkwan knew what he’d done. Hansol knew too. “...I shouldn’t have done that.” Seungkwan hadn’t stopped to think. He’d simply reached out to touch Hansol’s lips and wipe them clean. He dipped his head and chewed on his bottom lip that was sweet from the ice cream.

“Forget about it,” Hansol dismissed. Seungkwan nodded.

Shortly after, the empty pots were discarded into the nearest bin, and they were making their way out of the piazzetta.

Seungkwan could not forget about it. In fact, it was all that played on his mind, on the way back. He didn’t know what to think of it; Hansol hadn’t minded when Seungkwan jokingly poked his fingers in his mouth the other night as he’d yawned. It was a playful gesture. Spontaneous. Perhaps it was the intimacy in Seungkwan’s eyes, this time, as he’d reached for Hansol’s lips with his hand, that alarmed Hansol. This was what Seungkwan was afraid of.

“Let’s watch the sunset,” Hansol spoke after a silence that had dragged out since the occurrence. He steered off the road to ride into the wheat fields that the orange sun was falling behind. It probably wasn’t the cleverest idea to ride over the wheat. Clearly, Seungkwan was willing to risk that to follow Hansol’s laughter.

They stopped in the middle of the field, their bikes flattening the tall wheat as they were discarded. As he panted to catch his breath, Seungkwan watched Hansol slowly walk ahead of him, his arms folded behind his head. He stopped soon enough until all Seungkwan could see of him through the wheat was from the shoulders up. And the sunset ahead of them.

“Stand beside me. Come look at this.” Hansol’s voice was quiet. Comfortable. He sounded at ease. Seungkwan exhaled and stepped over the bikes to reach him. The sky was pale and soft, a couple of thin clouds hovering still.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Hansol said without his eyes moving away from the scene at all. He watched the sunset, and Seungkwan watched him.

“Yeah.”

Hansol was one of those beings who held no notion of how _truly _beautiful they were.

“You’re pretty too.”

Seungkwan wanted to be the one to help him realise.

After those three words had left his lips, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Hansol again. Though burning on the side of his face, Seungkwan could feel Hansol’s stare. Only the angels knew if it was a displeased stare or a delighted one. Seungkwan gave in and turned his head.

He was met with a softness in Hansol’s eyes - certainly no revulsion. His face was golden among the falling sun and orange sky, his skin essentially radiating.

To Seungkwan’s content, he watched Hansol’s lips curve upwards slightly as he grabbed Seungkwan’s shoulder to squeeze it.

“Come on. Let’s get back.”

Seungkwan had dared to say it. It was only a compliment but it held so much more. Because it wasn’t only just a simple, friendly remark. Seungkwan knew what this meant and from what he sensed, Hansol did too.

Seungkwan didn’t regret what he’d said. No, not at all.


	7. Au lac de Wallenstadt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe during these trying times <3
> 
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Hansol was aware of his urges. He had been ever since he was approaching the age of fifteen - rather young to be so self-aware and present to land to such a conclusion, but his memory couldn’t fault him. The memory of promptly changing out of his clothes after gym class so that he had the time to get an early start on any homework they’d been given that day. Not once could he recall ever writing anything down as he sat on the bench tucked away in the corner of that locker room; it was rather an excuse to have the sight of so much muscle and body to dart his reserved sight between. Initially, he had set the desire down to admiration, appreciation of his peers’ bodies. Though denial didn’t last long with Hansol, and he quickly figured out why he enjoyed gym class so much.

And yet Hansol didn’t pretend like he wasn’t aware of these feelings. It was something that he had worked on, to trust them. He didn’t need to disturb the earth to dig them up; they’d never been buried. His dad had never given him a shovel to begin with. And that was something that most parents would have done for their son - now more than ever - to disgrace their son into burying those longings deep beneath the soil where they could never be restored. That hadn’t been the case for Hansol.

Thus, he wasn’t going to try and push aside what he’d encountered in his sleep. It wasn’t often that he remembered his dreams - only a couple had ever stuck with him and even then, they felt useless to recall. Apart from this. The images were still fresh in his mind, as was the feeling. The way it made him feel.

Seungkwan had appeared in Hansol’s dreams once before but the contents of that dream were nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary, practically a retelling of a normal day they would spend together.

No, this dream had not been triggered by their usual daily habits. Instead, from Hansol’s mind, only from his mind, only his own intimate thoughts could have stirred such a dream. It began with an embrace. Didn’t it always begin with an innocent embrace? With Seungkwan laying in his arms, amidst a meadow similar to where he had uttered the word _pretty_ just the same evening. Something ignited a daring spark of courage within Hansol, in this dream, and he acted on temptation. He brought his fingertips to the hot surface of Seungkwan’s skin, trailing up his arm, collarbone, neck, jaw, chin until he reached his fragile lips. Tinted with virginity. There, he lingered until Seungkwan bit down with care, granting Hansol the wet heat of the inside of Seungkwan’s mouth, and Seungkwan’s tongue curling around his fingers.

He’d woken up, amidst the dark of night, to the discouraging consciousness that it was only a dream. He lay on his back, listening to Jisoo’s soft breathing across from him and the cricket chirps that came through the open window. Hansol got up then, went to the bathroom, and slipped back into bed. He could not seem to get comfortable enough to fall asleep after that - the night air was all of a sudden hotter, and the sheets too suffocating to stay under.

Thus, Hansol reached across to the bedside table to check the time on his watch. Almost two. He knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep with this dream looping in his head, so he chose to slip downstairs. His plan was to watch television quietly until the incoherent talk of Italian would tire him. Though upon walking past the kitchen, it was noticeable that the back door was open. Naturally, his mind led to it being Florenzo up working late - very late.

Hansol approached to find Mingyu smoking at the door with his naked back to Hansol as he stared out at the vast garden that was almost black, apart from moonlight. He didn’t want to startle Mingyu so he cleared his throat, pretending there was something stuck. Mingyu’s head turned to the side to glance over his shoulder. He looked ahead again and his arm came up to his face before a haze of smoke drifted up into the moonlight.

“Evening,” Mingyu said in English. He stepped aside to lean against the doorframe, making room for Hansol to stand beside him. Hansol filled the space and took a drag from Mingyu’s cigarette when he was offered.

“What’s keeping you up?” he asked Mingyu, smoke escaping his mouth as he spoke. He passed him the cigarette back and watched Mingyu tap it. Mingyu had the right idea, for whatever reason he was down here; the cool night air was healing at this time, a much better option to twisting and turning in bed.

“Same reason as you’re up. My head,” Mingyu said. Hansol could vouch for that. He folded his arms over his bare chest, regretting that he came down here in only shorts. Mingyu did not seem phased at all by the faint breeze, despite being dressed the same.

“How long have you been here?” Hansol kept his gaze on the moon through the trees. He heard the soft call of an owl and wondered if he was looking straight at it without even realising.

“Not long. As long as this has lasted.” Mingyu gestured to the cigarette in his other hand. It was almost out. So, near fifteen minutes? That was Hansol’s guess.

No one spoke. Hansol listened to the rattle of the cicadas when the visions of his dream flashed through his mind again. Was this why Mingyu was up too? Had he dreamt of something just as rare and bizarre? Had Mingyu ever even faced a problem like this?

“What are you thinking of, Hansol? Give me something else to think about.” All Hansol could think about was what he’d dreamt. He figured he could be honest with Mingyu.

“My dream.” But not wholly honest. He watched Mingyu stand up straight, casually inspecting the indentations in his arm from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah? Was it that scary?” Interesting how Mingyu jumped to the conclusion that the reason somebody would be awake after a dream would be because it terrified them. Hansol’s dream hadn’t struck terror - not at all. “Or was it _that _good?”

Was it that good? Hansol had not woken up aroused by it, although he supposed if it had lasted any longer, he would have. Nonetheless, he wasn’t awake because it frightened nor pleased him.

“No, it just… made me realise something.”

After eventually falling back to sleep, the dream surely hadn’t left his mind as he sat upright in his bed, touching his own lips and staring at the floor, but not really looking at the floor, rather looking at the images in his mind. On the day that Seungkwan had stayed over to eat lunch was what ensued Hansol’s fascination with his lips. They were all he could look at, as he’d sat across the table. He had noticed Seungkwan’s returning glances too. His lips were untouched, and Hansol couldn’t rid that thought from his mind. Even as he stood in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, he stared at his own lips in the mirror. He thought about the shape of them and if it was possible at all that they would mould with Seungkwan’s or not.

He shook his head. Infeasible thoughts.

After spitting the toothpaste into the sink and splashing water on his face, he twisted the faucet off and watched his reflection. There was stillness, with only the irregular drip from the faucet and the birds outside to fill that stillness. _Pretty_—what Seungkwan had called him yesterday. His mom used to call him pretty. Come to think of it, Seungkwan was the only other being apart from his mom to call him that.

Looks were something that Hansol didn’t fuss over, really, he felt comfortable enough with the way he looked. And yet Seungkwan’s remark had managed to leave him bashful, maybe because it was so unexpected. In the moment, Hansol couldn’t figure out if he should have returned the compliment, should have told Seungkwan that his smile was all that he could watch, that he truly didn’t find anyone else as enthralling as he. Or if he should have simply accepted his words as if they hadn’t sent his stomach to whirl. Looking back, Hansol had chosen to do neither - he behaved as if Seungkwan hadn’t said a word, or at least such a word. He had bent around the situation on cold feet.

They were playing a game of masks - that of what Hansol knew. 

He hadn’t heard Jisoo enter the bathroom whilst he was showering. The monotone spray of water had absorbed him, the sound of it hitting his own body. When he turned the shower off and stepped out, Jisoo was rummaging through one of the cabinets above the sink with his back to Hansol. Hansol asked him to hand over a towel from the rack beside him.

“Good morning.” Jisoo turned with a towel hanging from his grip which Hansol took. He didn’t exactly care that Jisoo was catching a glimpse of him naked; it was only Jisoo hyung. If Hansol imagined that this was the same situation but Seungkwan was in place of Jisoo, well, Hansol would feel just how he had felt yesterday after Seungkwan called him pretty.

Hansol wrapped the towel loosely around his waist. “Morning,” he uttered and stepped closer to Jisoo at the sink to see what he was doing. “What’re you looking for?” He reached up to the cabinet that Jisoo was raking through and grabbed the blue tube of sunscreen.

Jisoo stopped searching and looked at Hansol. “The sunscreen.”

Hansol chuckled, squeezing the cream onto his fingers. He passed the tube to Jisoo. “Found it.” He started applying the sunscreen to his face and arms. Naturally, he had pale skin - almost as pale as Wonwoo’s - but he could notice a warmer tone these days. On top of that, faint freckles speckled across his skin, primarily his face. Those were also new.

“Thanks, man.” Jisoo applied the cream the same. “Just had to top up.” His voice was muffled behind his hands as he was massaging his face. All Hansol could smell was sunscreen in the humid, post-shower air.

“How long have you been up? What time is it?” he asked Jisoo when they were walking into the bedroom. Hansol stood at the closet and raked through his clothes. Behind, he heard the creak in the mattress as Jisoo sat down on his bed.

“It’s almost eleven. I just came back from a pretty long jog, so my last layer of sunscreen must’ve, like, vanished with sweat.” Hansol wanted to know how Jisoo could keep up his appearance after running under the heat for so long. The pink flush in his cheeks and his damp hair only did him favours, in Hansol’s opinion.

“I didn’t hear you get up.” Hansol let his towel fall from his waist and hit the floor so he could put on his underwear and then a pair of dark blue jeans. He took a pair of white socks from the drawers in the closet and sat beside Jisoo to slip them on.

“Good. You looked peaceful, I didn’t wanna wake you,” Jisoo said, watching him. Little did Jisoo know it had taken Hansol all of his effort to fall back to sleep, so he wasn’t peaceful at all. He was surprised he hadn’t woken Jisoo up when he’d left the bedroom.

“Did I miss breakfast?” Hansol asked him as he came back to the closet and chose a polo shirt of thick stripes, deep blue and maroon. He pulled it off the hanger and threw it on, leaving the white collar open.

“Yup. Once again. But there’s some stuff leftover. Don’t worry, it’s all fresh.” Jisoo stood up from the bed and picked up the towel that Hansol had abandoned. Hansol watched him throw it in the laundry basket beside the door. Jisoo was always cleaning up after him.

“Seungkwan asked where you were earlier,” was what Jisoo said when they were walking down the staircase. Hansol’s ears were pricked. “I saw him coming out of the bank with his sister so I went over to say hi. He wanted to know why you weren’t with me this time, on my jog.”

Hansol pursed his lips, as to hold in his smile.

“Told him you were still sleeping. Jinseol asked if you were ever awake,” Jisoo giggled. Hansol huffed out a short laugh in reply. When they passed the phone that sat on a taupe console table in the hallway, Jisoo spoke again. “Oh, that’s right. Your dad called earlier. I told him you’d call when you wake up.”

Hansol hesitantly stopped beside the table. “He might not pick up though; he’ll be working.”

“Give him a try.” Jisoo gave him an encouraging look, and left Hansol with a pat on the shoulder before carrying on to go into the kitchen. Hansol sat down in the chair beside the table and reached across for the dial phone, resting the body on his lap and bringing the speaker to his ear. He dialled his house number and waited.

“Hello?”

“Dad? Dad, hey!” It’d been a little while since Hansol had heard his dad’s voice. It was oddly comforting since it wasn’t often that he parted from his dad for such a long period of time. He leaned back in the chair with a grin on his face.

“Hansol! You caught me just as I got home. It’s great to hear your voice.” He sounded rather drained as if he had _just _got through the front door before Hansol called.

“Nice to hear your voice too. How was your day?” Hansol asked and watched the moving figures of Jisoo and Mingyu in the kitchen as he listened to his dad move around - sounded like he was hanging up his coat.

“Jane - you know, Jane from accounting - she asked how you were today. She wanted to know if I could grab a meal with her after shifts and it’s a good job that I said I have to get home to get this paperwork done ‘cause otherwise, I would’ve missed your call!” his dad said with so much pep. He always did when he talked about Jane. Hansol didn’t mind Jane, she made his dad find joy in going to work every day, and she was only a friend. His dad had first mentioned her around four months ago and never stopped since. But Hansol was eighteen. And he could speculate where things were going.

“You can tell her that I’m doing just fine.” Had that sounded blunt? Hansol hadn’t meant it to. He cleared his throat. “I’m going to the art museum today in Mantua with Mingyu.”

“Sounds fun! You’ll have to tell me about that. Have you made any artwork since you arrived? I’d love to see it when you come home.” Without fail, Hansol’s dad was always enthusiastic about Hansol’s artwork - he guessed it was because that was what he loved in Mom too.

Hansol thought about the painting he’d tossed into the bin, the watercolour painting of Seungkwan and the orchard. He regretted discarding it. “No, not really. I’ve sketched here and there but no big projects.” He could have told his dad about the finger painting on Seungkwan’s campervan, but it felt too personal. That was _their _secret.

“Maybe the museum will inspire you. Who did you say you were going with? Mingyu?”

“And Minghao, his friend. He’s the one who brought it up.”

“Not that boy? What’s his name again? You mentioned him last time...”

Hansol opened his mouth. “Ahh, Seungkwan. No, I don’t know what he’s up to today.” He was shocked that his dad could remember.

“Oh, well- oh! Here’s Sofia now, let me put her on,” he said before there was fidgeting on the other end. Hansol was already beginning to smile.

“Hansol, Hansol, Hansol, Hansol!” Sofia’s bright voice jumped down the phone and Hansol had never been so delighted to hear it.

“Hi, Sofia, I miss you.” Sofia never failed to improve Hansol’s day back home - he missed her energy.

“I miss you more! I’ve already had four sleepovers in your bedroom, _and _I _might _have spilt nail polish on your carpet but I promise I tried my best to clean it up-” Sofia spoke so quickly she stumbled over her words. Hansol struggled to grasp them.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he spoke kindly. Her mentioning of nail polish briefly took him back to the day he’d spent with Seungkwan, telling him all about his sister. He wanted to see how they’d get along.

“I am! Are you? What’s Italy like? Have you had tons of pizza? Are you gonna come home super big?”

Hansol laughed. “Yes, I’ve had pizza every single day! You won’t even recognise me.” He chose to joke along with his sister. Truthfully, he didn’t like to think about leaving here.

Sofia’s giggles chimed down the phone. “I can’t wait to see you!”

“I can’t wait to see you too.”

“Okay, I have to go help Dad cook now. Love you!”

“I love you too,” Hansol said softly. Sofia hung up and he was left with white noise. He put the phone back and entered the kitchen. Jisoo and Mingyu were sitting at the island and chatting until Hansol made himself known. Jisoo called him to join them.

“Here, eat up.” Jisoo patted the stool beside him. There was a plate on the counter with a soft-boiled egg and thin slices of toast to dip. Hansol thanked Jisoo and picked up the spoon to gently hit the back on the top of the egg. He listened to Mingyu and Jisoo as he unpeeled it.

“You guys are going to Mantua today?” Jisoo opened the newspaper on the countertop and flicked through it mindlessly. Hansol knew he wasn’t actually reading Italian; he was most likely looking at the photos.

“Yup. I did ask Seungkwan but he seemed busy. And Wonwoo just wants to chill today,” Mingyu said.

Jisoo scoffed light-heartedly. “All we do is chill.”

“What’s he doing today? Seungkwan, I mean.” Hansol asked, scooping out the egg with his spoon. The gooey yolk spilt over the edges.

“Jinseol said they’re going shopping in Arzignano,” Jisoo answered, trying hard to pronounce the town name. Hansol couldn’t tell if he’d come across as too interested in Seungkwan’s whereabouts, asking that question.

Wonwoo came into the kitchen from the backyard and Hansol glanced up at the new footsteps. He bid good morning to Wonwoo and watched him join them at the island, patting Mingyu’s shoulder on the way. He wore a loose, kimono-type cardigan open over a white t-shirt. Hansol liked the deep blue patterning and the lightweight fabric came down to his thighs, brushing against his jeans. Wonwoo’s slender frame suited it well.

“I didn’t think it could get any hotter here,” Wonwoo sighed as he approached the island, placing his palms on the cold surface. Hansol regretted choosing jeans, seeing as Wonwoo looked to be suffering.

Jisoo closed the newspaper and took a piece of toast from Hansol’s plate. “I think I’ll work inside today.”

It was around noon when they left for Mantua and it took just under an hour to reach the city, greeted by the long stretches of the bodies of water. The lake that they crossed was glorious under the high sun, a reflection of the exotic structures of turrets and cupolas and beautiful domes. Hansol was truly captivated out of his window as they drove along the bridge.

There were sights here in Italy that he had never seen the likes of anywhere else.

As anticipated, the museum was breath-taking, a white structure against the clear sky-blue. Large and brilliant with tall columns, and statues impressive on their podiums. Centred with a wide staircase where tourists stopped to take a photo or two on their disposable cameras. And this was only the exterior.

Hansol had paid a visit to many art museums back home in New York, even a school trip to the Met when he was younger. What with him always having been engulfed by all types of art, he took every chance he got.

One recurring feature of these museums was the ancient statuary. Hansol did not know why he was infatuated with the art of them, but they were what he found himself devoting most of his attention to. This museum had a sculpture of Antinous - truly the most beautiful sculpture Hansol had come across. Youthful Antinous with round eyes, pouting lips, strong face turned down and the Grecian waves of his hair; his swollen chest, his figure standing tall. Hansol stood in awe, staring up with enamoured eyes like a kid.

“He was the lover of Hadrian, wasn’t he?” Minghao spoke quietly in the open silence. His footsteps on the marble resounded high. It was only the two of them here; Antinous was isolated in his own room of the museum.

Hansol didn’t know at all if he was the lover of Hadrian, but he took Minghao’s word for it. Minghao was beside him now, sharing the view of the sculpture. Hansol kept his eye on where the sunlight struck on his white cheek.

“I read that it was rumoured he sacrificed his own life to sustain Hadrian’s. He must’ve loved him a lot,” Minghao said. “You think it’s realistic to love someone that intensely? I don’t think I ever will.”

Hansol’s eyes trailed down to Hadrian’s lips. They were so especially sensual. “I don’t know…” he murmured. Was it possible to feel that much love for another? If the fate of Antinous was true, then perhaps. Surrendering his life for his sister, Hansol could see himself doing that - any devoted brother would do the same. If the life belonged to a lover’s, Hansol was doubtful...

He could easily admit that this was one of the most captivating art museums he had stepped foot in. Other than Antinous, the paintings were spectacular, and a favourite of Minghao’s, and the finely detailed murals high above them that almost took Hansol to another world or time. Yet all he could contemplate as they made their way around the museum was Minghao’s question.

Sacrificing your life for the one you loved could be the most ardent declaration of love - or the most foolish. Hansol settled with the idea that he would not. Not unless he was absolutely certain that there was no other soul on earth that he adored more than the one he was sacrificing for. Regardless, Hansol couldn’t think of a scenario where this would matter.

Before driving back, Hansol stood outside the car and shared a cigarette with Mingyu, whilst they waited for Minghao who had stopped back for the bathroom. The heat was sweltering out here.

“I’m glad Minghao got to visit here before he leaves. I knew he wanted to see something like this,” Mingyu said calmly. Minghao was leaving on Saturday instead now - something to do with timing.

“_Hm_.” Hansol agreed. Standing like this, alone with Mingyu, reminded him of how they were last night when he couldn’t sleep. Mingyu never told him exactly why he was awake too. Hansol could’ve asked, but by the time he’d rehearsed the question in his mind, Minghao had come back. Maybe next time.

When they returned home at around 5 pm, Hansol headed for his bedroom, eager to change out of his jeans and into something cooler. And after switching into shorts, he’d been ready to leave the room. He pushed the closet doors shut, when something caught the corner of his sight, sitting in the centre of his pillow. He stepped to his bed and picked up the small slip of paper.

_‘Come see me.’_

It was in English. Hansol’s lips curved. He somewhat twisted his wrist and tilted his head to see if there were any words on the back.

_‘I have something for you.’_

His smirk expanded into a grin and such words made his heart thump. This was Seungkwan. Hansol knew. That was why he cherished the shape of his handwriting, the curves and the dips of the English letters. Something about the way Seungkwan wrote English was incredibly charming. It looked to be written with a blunt pencil, but Seungkwan seemed to have tried his best to make sure his handwriting remained neat and tidy for Hansol. He kept the paper on his bedside table.

Hansol hurried down the staircase, almost tripping over his own fleeting feet. Before leaving again, he peered his head into the living room where Wonwoo was watching television, where he’d probably been all day.

“I’ll be back later.” He turned to leave.

“What about dinner?” Wonwoo shouted by the time Hansol’s hand was around the grip of the front door.

“Save me some, please!” Hansol called out before stepping out the door. On his way to Seungkwan’s, he’d tried to come up with what Seungkwan could possibly have for him. There were too many possibilities, some that Hansol would never admit to thinking of.

It almost sounded like a jungle with the number of birds that were vocal amongst the trees today. The front door of Seungkwan’s house was already open when Hansol arrived. By now, he felt familiar enough to let himself in; from what he’d seen, there were regularly friends and guests coming in and out freely.

He progressed down the expansive vestibule, peering through the open doors to catch a glimpse of every room. The kitchen seemed busy, clattering of cutlery echoing from there - voices too, though all were female. Seungkwan must be upstairs. Hansol turned on his heel for the staircase. He was stopped by Sojeong halfway, who was coming down.

“Hey, Hansol! I wanted to talk to you, actually.” She smiled and leaned against the bannister, her striped, long-sleeved shirt brushing against the dark wood. “Camilla’s been asking for you.”

“How come?”

“She’s been eager to improve her English. I think she wanted to take advantage of your time here to maybe help her,” Sojeong chuckled.

Hansol spluttered, “I dunno, I hardly know enough Italian to even communicate with her.” Back in middle school, he had helped a Korean transfer student develop their English skills. Though that wasn’t a struggle at all since he was able to interact with ease. Despite working on his Italian whilst he had been here so far, he didn’t know if it was enough.

Sojeong pouted which made her look just like Seungkwan. “Just some useful phrases,” she began to plead. “I think she’d really appreciate it.”

Hansol was aware that Camilla was partly interested in him. So, he couldn’t tell if this was genuine, or a ploy between girlfriends to bring her closer to him. Either way seemed innocent - Hansol was simply uncertain.

“Okay. I’ll do it.” He didn’t want to dishearten a girl as benign as she.

“Thank you, Hansol!” Sojeong sparked. She stepped past him on the staircase with a bigger smile, patting his shoulder on the way down.

When Hansol reached Seungkwan’s room, he knocked on the door that was already slightly ajar. All he needed to hear from Seungkwan was a short hum before he entered. Seungkwan was laying on his front, in the centre of his bed with an open book in his hands, face hidden behind it. This was the first time Hansol was seeing Seungkwan today—he didn’t know why that brought him joy, to finally see Seungkwan after no sight of him all day.

Without a word, Hansol stood at the end of the bed, leaning his hands on the footboard. Seungkwan closed his book and looked up at him.

“You came.” There was a smile that dared to appear on Seungkwan’s lips as he spoke. Hansol could not refrain from coming to sit beside him and briefly tousling his hair. It looked nice today. In fact, when Seungkwan sat up, Hansol could see that he was dressed up more formally than usual—a loose, button shirt with the collar open, tucked into jeans. Hansol couldn’t help but notice the material of his shirt, it was white and rather thin, granting a tempting glimpse of his tan skin underneath.

“‘Course I did.” He watched Seungkwan fix his hair, sweeping his fingers through his bangs. “You weren’t expecting me to?” Hansol couldn’t think of why Seungkwan doubted him coming.

Seungkwan shrugged and dipped his sight. “Thought you’d be busy,” he muttered into his chest.

Hansol scoffed and slid further onto the bed to nudge Seungkwan’s shoulder with his palm. “I’m never busy here. I’ll always make time for you.”

That was when Seungkwan’s expression softened. Along with Hansol’s heart. It was always rewarding to see.

“Oh!” Seungkwan shot up from the bed. Hansol watched him hurry to his small desk in front of the open window. He turned around with something in his hands, feathers and beads hanging.

“A dreamcatcher,” he said. “I made it for you.”

“You made it?” Hansol asked gently. He slid off the bed and walked around it to meet Seungkwan, looking down into his open palms. “You think I have bad dreams?” Hansol was testing the waters. He was really asking Seungkwan if he wanted to know of the dreams he had. It was a beautiful coincidence that Seungkwan had made this for Hansol, who had only just dreamt of him. He knew that there was no way that Seungkwan could’ve known, but it amazed him.

Seungkwan shrugged and turned away. “Everyone gets them. I haven’t made one of these in a while but I thought maybe you’d like one.” Hansol’s tone must’ve gone over his head. And now there was just silence.

Seungkwan walked out onto the balcony. Hansol gently placed the dreamcatcher on the bed and followed. It was still light outside, though a pinker hue was beginning to bleed into the blue of the sky. Hansol’s eyes followed down the tree-lined driveway to where a red 1977 Alfa Romeo was slowly rolling down towards the house. They rested against the balustrade and watched.

“You know who that is?” Hansol asked when the car was parked and a middle-aged man in a vibrant dress shirt stepped out. He carried himself as if everywhere he stepped was his home. Seungkwan’s mother crossed the gravel path from the house to greet him warmly.

“_Mm_. Amadeo, my mother’s Italian translator for her newest book. She wants to sell it here. She’s pretty articulate with her Italian, I think she’s just worried about any mistakes,” Seungkwan explained with his soft voice. A woman stepped out from the passenger side of the car with big and fluffy dark hair. “There’s his wife. I don’t think she’s ever enjoyed my mother’s poetry,” Seungkwan chuckled with his chin on the heel of his hand. Hansol watched him smile.

They quietly observed from above as the couple entered the house. Seungkwan’s mother stopped at the door and called up to Seungkwan for him to come down. He asked if Hansol would like to stay for dinner. Hansol noticed the hopeful flicker in his eye and was overcome with the guilt of having to snuff it.

“Wonwoo has already saved me some dinner. Maybe next time?” They carried on down the vestibule, the bright chatter of Seungkwan’s family and guests resonating from the kitchen.

“Yeah, next time.” 

When they bid goodbye at the door, Hansol naturally expected not to see Seungkwan again until tomorrow. It wasn’t until he had just left the gate, following down the small bank, when somebody called out his name. He stopped on the corner of a neighbouring villa. Turning on his heel, he saw Seungkwan coming down the bank, rushing closer. Hansol took a few steps so Seungkwan didn’t have to run as much.

The boy came to an abrupt stop, mouth hung open as he panted. Hansol glimpsed down at his hand - he was clutching the dreamcatcher.

“Forgot this,” Seungkwan sighed rather than spoke, lifting the dreamcatcher between them for Hansol to take. Hansol waited for Seungkwan to calm his breaths, when his chest was no longer heaving, and thanked him quietly. Quietly because of the shame he felt for forgetting Seungkwan’s heartfelt gift.

“It’s okay...” Seungkwan was hesitating. He lingered between the silence and Hansol could see that his mouth was ready to form a word, he was on the edge of saying something. Hansol played with the feathers from the dreamcatcher and watched the uncertainty on Seungkwan. Cicadas were humming above and he could hear a distant owl cooing softly. The sound of Europe.

_What is it you have to say, Seungkwan? I’m listening._

“Okay. I need to get back,” he eventually spoke and took a step back. “Goodnight, Hansol. Put that to good use. For me.” He nodded to the dreamcatcher and gave one last smile.

“I will,” Hansol promised. He watched Seungkwan turn away and hurry up the road to his house again.

_For you._

_Au Lac de Wallenstadt_—Seungkwan could have never placed another piano piece above this one. By now, it was one of the few pieces he’d memorised to play in full since he’d lost the sheet music. Despite the peace it blessed him with to play, he didn’t take lessons anymore. Every once in a while, he would revisit this song from Liszt, to heal his soul. It was a melancholic composition, imitative to the lake of Wallenstadt where Liszt and his mistress visited as they travelled through Switzerland and Italy.

_Thy contrasted lake with the wild world I dwell in, is a thing which warns me with its stillness, to forsake earth's troubled waters for a purer spring._

It was early noon when Seungkwan played this in the living room as the rolling melodies stretched out peacefully through the entire house, just like the water of the lake it resembled. The tune was carrying him as if he was floating away on the lake itself. His eyes occasionally closing and his hands drifted, body leaning slowly forward.

When the song came to its delicate end, his hands ghosted above the keys as he kept his foot down on the sustain pedal, listening to the notes linger in the air.

“That might just be the best thing I’ve heard today.”

Seungkwan spun around on his stool. Hansol was here, standing at the archway that led out into the vestibule, with a smirk on his lips like he’d caught Seungkwan at his most vulnerable moment - which was essentially the case since he hadn’t been expecting Hansol at all. Still, an occurrence to Seungkwan’s liking. Whenever Hansol showed himself, everything would shift within him.

Not knowing what to say, he watched Hansol come into the room to sit on the couch nearest the piano. A throaty sigh came out of him when he sunk into the antique furniture. Almost a groan. Seungkwan briefly lost the calm pace of his breathing.

“Hey,” he said once his heartbeat settled. Hansol had only just made himself known and already his body was reclined on the sofa, resting his elbow on the arm of it, fingers open, shoulders slumped. Seungkwan hoped that Hansol hadn’t noticed when his gaze flitted to his wide-open crotch. It was difficult to avoid; his legs were casually spread open and he was wearing shorts that stopped mid-thigh.

“When did you learn that?” Hansol asked, mindlessly playing with his own ear. There was still a smile lingering over his lips. Seungkwan wanted to feel his ear as he had at the lake. They were probably warm - definitely warm.

“I dunno, I might’ve been around fourteen, fifteen.” Subconsciously, his hand came up to his own ear. He dropped it when he realised, he was mirroring Hansol. “Some notes are probably wrong by now.”

“Yeah? You play like you’ve known it all your life,” Hansol said in such an elegant manner that Seungkwan couldn’t maintain eye contact, shifting glances around the room. He turned on his stool to face the piano.

“My fingers slipped a few times…” he mumbled through a pout on his lips, poking at the keys timidly.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, listening in unannounced. I just didn’t want you to stop,” Hansol’s voice hushed towards the end. Seungkwan heard, even with his back turned. If it wasn’t apparent already that Seungkwan had swooned, here was where it would be. Despite Hansol being unable to see his face, he kept his lips from curving. Sunlight was streaming through the open window beside them and hitting the piano, it made his fingers warm and he could see, in the light, the pollen drifting in from outside. Truly, he wasn’t uncomfortable that Hansol had watched him privately. He was exhilarated. Hansol had caught a glimpse of Seungkwan unabashed, and that was all Seungkwan ever wished for Hansol to see of him.

“Are you here for Camilla? She hasn’t come over yet,” he asked as he turned to face Hansol again. A question like that was sure to break the fantasy. Stop him languishing.

“Yeah, I am. How do you know about that?” With such a question, one would have expected it to come off as defensive, but Hansol’s tone was hinting more at upset, or guilt, or something in-between.

Seungkwan gave a light shrug, watching Hansol rub his finger over the fabric on the arm of the sofa. “Sojeong brought it up at dinner last night.” She’d so innocently mentioned it at the table and Seungkwan didn’t say a word, scraping at his plate. He would have rather jumped back to the droning conversation prior, about Mother’s book and how many pages Amadeo could translate a day. Or the one before that, in which Jinseol had so enthusiastically spoken about the squirrel she’d spotted in the orchard earlier. Anything but listening to everybody enthuse over Hansol and Camilla and how generous Hansol was for doing this. 

“Will you teach me something?” Hansol lifted his head to meet Seungkwan’s gaze. Seungkwan held it. “Teach me a melody or something. Whilst I wait.”

Seungkwan complied and shuffled along the stool to make room for Hansol. They sat closely, warm sides pushed against each other and knees touching, perpetually touching. Hansol was eager to learn. He cracked his fingers and rubbed his hands together. Seungkwan huffed out a laugh at his winsome ways.

He chose to teach Hansol a simple tune, solely for the right hand. When their fingers briefly touched, Seungkwan involuntarily shifted on the stool. He almost convinced himself that Hansol was doing it on purpose, because there was more than enough room between octaves to keep their own space. _Stupid_, he thought, he wasn’t purposefully doing that. Why would he?

Yet that wasn’t what rattled him most. It was the moment when he was explaining the difference between pianissimo and mezzo forte when he could feel Hansol’s intent gaze on him, when his heart was thudding at his chest with every rapid beat. The longer he spoke, the longer Hansol’s gaze lasted, and the hotter his cheeks felt. He feared that if he turned his head to meet Hansol’s eyes, he would lose his train of thought, so he focused on his fidgeting hands, sometimes glancing at Hansol's hands that were completely still.

When he was finished explaining the dynamics of the piece, he finally looked at Hansol. Hansol was holding a fond smile on his closed lips, that rare smile. The smile that Seungkwan would only see when it was _just _the two of them. When his light eyes would tell Seungkwan everything he needed to know.

“I could listen to you talk about pretty much anything,” Hansol said. It caught Seungkwan off-guard.

He scoffed and turned his head to the piano again. “I don’t believe that.” He didn’t want to dwell, so he went back to teaching Hansol the tune. Of course, he should have known that he would pick it up so quickly. _Is there anything you can’t do, Hansol?_

He improvised bass notes in the left hand, to play along with Hansol. They were playing as one. Seungkwan didn’t realise how content this could make him feel. Too content. He searched his mind for a ruin, to purge this pure delight from his body, and remembered that Hansol was only doing this to pass time as he waited for Camilla. Was Camilla going to feel as Seungkwan did now when Hansol taught her? The thought was enough for him to stop playing.

Hansol’s playing ceased too. He flashed Seungkwan a satisfied grin. “That sounded really good!” He was thrilled.

“You learn fast,” Seungkwan praised. He couldn’t help but smile back, even if it hurt, with the thought he’d forced upon himself about Hansol and Camilla.

Hansol nudged his side with the point of his elbow. “You teach well.”

Just as he’d envisioned himself doing, Seungkwan moped around for the rest of the afternoon. As of now, he sat at the round table beneath the shade of a tree and tried his best to hide behind a book. Though his eyes were drawn to the distant voices across the garden, where Hansol sat with Camilla. It was the laughter that Seungkwan couldn’t take, listening to Hansol’s overlapped with Camilla’s. How sweet they sounded together. Seemed like Hansol was hardly teaching her anything. Or was it Seungkwan’s insecurity that developed these assumptions?

Could it be something closer to jealousy? Envy? _For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice. _Nothing good ever came out of envy - nothing at all but ugliness. It was the same as when Hansol was playing volleyball with Camilla and Seungkwan watched from a distance. He almost cried then. He could have cried today - his feet wouldn’t keep still beneath the round table and he couldn’t focus on his book at all.

There lay more than one factor to the tears that welled up in his eyes. Not only was Seungkwan upset because Hansol was enjoying his time with her, but he was upset because he knew _why _this was getting to him.

He knew why there was jealousy. And the reason frightened him.

When Sojeong came out into the garden, Seungkwan was quick to shake any discomfort from his features. She sat across from him and placed her glass of lemonade on the table with a loud clink. Seungkwan lifted his gaze from his book, up to his sister, as if he’d been so immersed in his reading. She wore a light, pretty dress today, one that brushed against her ankles when she walked.

“Going well?” she asked, tilting her head in the direction of Hansol and Camilla, where Hansol was in the middle of explaining something to her. Seungkwan could hear them but he didn’t look. He hated that Hansol used that same gentle inflexion in his voice when he was talking to other people. He shrugged to his sister and went back to his book. Sojeong was quiet for a moment.

“Oh. I figured you were listening in,” she said. “Doesn’t matter.” Her arms folded on the table and she twisted her body in her chair to face Seungkwan fully. Seungkwan realised that being quiet wasn’t helping in his task to mask his upset. He closed his book and placed it down.

“Hansol seems to be a good teacher.” If teaching was making your student do nothing but laugh obnoxiously loud. No, Camilla wasn’t being obnoxious, Seungkwan was being high-strung. “They’re good together, aren’t they?” he asked, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear back.

Sojeong glanced over to them and then rested her chin in her palm. “I dunno.” Seungkwan stopped letting his gaze wander around the garden, and darted his eyes to his sister. “I don’t think Hansol is interested,” she said.

“You think?” Seungkwan inched forward. His hands fidgeted with the book in front of him.

“He wasn’t so sure about doing this favour for Camilla. I saw it on his face,” Sojeong spoke in a hushed voice, her eyes on the two of them. Seungkwan didn’t ask any more questions, to avoid seeming too bothered. He watched Sojeong take a drink of lemonade.

“Mother said she’d love to have Hansol over for dinner, sometime. I think he’s fully charmed her,” she giggled.

“Hansol charms everybody.”

“Even you?”

Seungkwan was far more than simply charmed by Hansol. But he nodded his head; if he was like everyone else, if he admitted to being innocently entranced by Hansol, there would be no path for others’ doubts to ride anywhere else. “Even me.” It made Sojeong smile. She leaned across the table and rubbed her hand in Seungkwan’s hair. Seungkwan scrunched his nose.

“You look so cute today,” she cooed.

Seungkwan had left the garden by the time Hansol left the house. He was in the study room, helping his mother tidy up the bookshelves, when he heard the front door close. At the sound, he hurried out into the hallway and crossed it to his bedroom, to reach his balcony. There, Hansol was walking down the driveway with Camilla and Sojeong, probably meeting others and going to town. Seungkwan’s eyes were fixed on his back, appearing and disappearing under the thick of the trees as he distanced farther and farther.

“What game are we playing, Chwe Hansol?” he whispered to himself.

The next time he saw Hansol was in the evening, at the get-together at Mingyu’s house for Minghao, before he was to leave tomorrow. The air was easy tonight - there was music and dancing and laughter, but nothing like it was at the disco or down by the lake. Seungkwan preferred this.

He wondered where Hansol had been until now. Had he come back here and distanced himself from Camilla? Or had he gone into town and spent even more time with her and the others at the café or someplace else? Or perhaps he’d gone somewhere alone, somewhere Seungkwan had no idea of. After all, he was his own person. He could’ve asked, but it was none of his business.

“What’s that face for?” There was a gentle thud on his back that could only be distinguished as Mingyu’s way of greeting. Seungkwan was sitting on the grass with a few friends, listening to them talk, and watching others in the pool. Mingyu must’ve come from the kitchen. He sat down beside Seungkwan, welcoming a fresh scent of cologne. Seungkwan heard the pendants on the two light necklaces he wore softly hit his chest with the movement. 

“What face?” He glanced at Mingyu, suddenly aware of his own expression.

“Looked like you were thinking hard,” Mingyu said. He smiled and leaned in a little closer. “Havin’ fun?”

“Yeah. Is Minghao?” He thought he’d ask since this was all for him. Actually, he hadn’t seen Minghao; he’d basically only just got here.

Mingyu’s smile grew. “He is! I think he’s already hammered,” he chuckled. Seungkwan was glad Minghao was making the most of his last night here.

The others that Seungkwan sat with had stopped their conversation to greet Mingyu. “Mingyu! _Ciao_!” In turn, Mingyu shuffled closer to them and jumped into their chit-chat.

Seungkwan stood up to stretch his legs. He surveyed the garden - his sisters were in the pool with a few others, Wonwoo and Minghao shared a cigarette close by on the grass, and then he cast his gaze on the hammock.

Hansol was reclined in the hammock with a glass of beer on the floor close to him. Jisoo rested on the bough of the tree, holding a conversation with him. What threw Seungkwan off was Hansol’s eyes - or lack thereof. He was wearing shades, his pretty-shaped eyes were hidden. When Hansol wore sunglasses, it struck Seungkwan with mild panic; he couldn’t see what gaze Hansol was holding, or where he was holding it. Seungkwan felt most comfortable when he could read Hansol.

As Seungkwan approached, Jisoo greeted him and left him alone with Hansol.

“Why aren’t you over there?” Seungkwan asked him, gesturing to the pool. Hansol sat up in the hammock. He could seem quite intimidating with his eyes hidden behind two almost-black screens. Daylight was melting away by now - hopefully, he’d discard them soon.

Seungkwan took Jisoo’s place, resting against the tree.

Hansol rubbed his palm against his bare chest, looking up at Seungkwan. “I was waiting for you,” he said. That sentence almost didn’t sound real to Seungkwan’s ears. It sounded too good to be true.

“I wasn’t gonna come.” He folded his arms, dipping his head. After seeing Hansol and Camilla enjoying each other’s company this afternoon, Seungkwan didn’t think he could handle seeing more of it tonight, even after what Sojeong had said. In his bedroom, he’d gone over and over the thoughts in his mind and came to the conclusion that hiding away at home would’ve only been selfish of him.

Hansol took off his sunglasses and hooked them on the neckline of his t-shirt. There, that was all Seungkwan wanted. To hold his gaze.

“Well, I’m glad to see you changed your mind,” Hansol said as he got to his feet. His skin was a honey tone under the dim, orange sun - a tone Seungkwan didn’t see often. Hansol was the one to entice him into the pool. Though Seungkwan had enjoyed his pleading and the pulling on his arm.

After helping Mingyu throw Minghao into the pool and laughing at Minghao’s scowl, he took a break from the water. Sitting at a table near the pool, the tabletop cramped with glasses of beer or cola, Seungkwan caught his breath. His eyes landed on Hansol in the pool, laughing with everyone, and Camilla. And just like that, his mind took two steps back. _Why do you have to be so charming, Hansol? With your winsome Americanisms. Why must you captivate everyone? Why not just me?_

Seungkwan sunk into the chair and folded his arms over his bare chest, still a little damp from the pool. As much as he tried not to, he could not stop himself from watching. Watching the way Hansol’s smile formed when he was with them, how comfortable he seemed despite the language barrier. _Come here, Hansol, where we can talk with no restriction. I understand your words. I am your words. I can be them if you want me to._

When Matteo, a friend who lived in town and was around the same age as Seungkwan, came over to grab a drink, Seungkwan sat up.

“_Come va_?”

“_Sto bene_.”

He was quiet as Matteo downed the last of his beer and was left alone again shortly after. Left with the music and the heat of discomfort. Until he decided to act upon it, dipping into the pool and making his way to where Hansol and the others were. Some were leaning their elbows behind them on the ledge, others moved around in the water. Seungkwan was greeted with delighted welcoming’s. He slipped into Italian, to talk to them. That was when he noticed, Hansol hushed then.

Later that night, when it was dark, Seungkwan distanced from the liveliness to farther back in the garden where it was quiet, on the wide steps beneath the greenery that arched over. He looked out at the pasture in the distance, just behind the trees. It was cooler now, so he’d put his shirt back on, sitting with his feet on the step below and his head resting on his bent knees.

“Seungkwan-ah.” There was a soft calling behind him, over the crickets. Hansol’s voice. No one else said Seungkwan’s name in the way Hansol did—or was it that no one but Hansol could make Seungkwan’s stomach flip when he said his name?

He peered over his shoulder and watched as Hansol approached.

“How did you know I was here?” Seungkwan asked as Hansol sat beside him on the first step. There was a distance between them. 

Hansol picked up a thin twig and poked between his feet on the stone step. Seungkwan watched him do so. “I saw you leave earlier,” Hansol muttered.

Seungkwan shifted his focus to Florenzo who was returning from the field, emerging through the trees down by the gate. His pace was lethargic and so was his dog’s, close beside his ankles. Seungkwan lifted his hand to gesture a wave to which Florenzo returned. They were silent as the old man disappeared down the path to the right, to the farm, his tired scraping footsteps and his dog’s panting eventually faded. 

That was when Hansol chose the moment to speak again, “I always notice you, Seungkwan.”

_You always notice me?_

Seungkwan wanted to ask: do you notice me when I hold my gaze on you even when you’ve already looked away from me? Do you notice the sting on my face when you talk to Camilla or anyone else apart from me? Do you notice me as I notice you? Because in you, Hansol, I notice the faint scar above your brow, and the path of every vein in your hands and arms, even the way you chew your bottom lip until it becomes sore. Do you notice me like that?

Seungkwan could have asked this, but he abstained.

“You and Camilla seemed to get along well today,” he muttered instead, that bitter tone coming through in his voice, even if he hadn’t meant for it. There was no fully concealing it.

Hansol snorted out a laugh. “I’m not interested in her, Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan didn’t shift his focus even when he felt Hansol’s gaze asking to be returned. Hansol was tipsy, like he was at Lake Garda. For that reason, Seungkwan could not figure out the truth behind Hansol’s words. If he was being honest, or if he was trying to be nice.

Seungkwan turned his head and met Hansol’s heavy gaze. “Really? Because I don’t care if you like her, Hansol. Why would I?” He could almost taste the sourness in his mouth from the lie he’d just spat out - like he’d rubbed a lime against the surface of his tongue.

Hansol was quiet. But he was staring back at Seungkwan with intent. Seungkwan couldn’t look away because Hansol had those eyes that, once they caught you, demanded you not leave them. The moonlight dripped through the arched leaves and between them, making Hansol’s skin dazzle just like the first time Seungkwan had ever laid his eyes upon him—that natural pale glow on his cheekbone and the side of his nose. And his philtrum.

His hand entered the space between them. Seungkwan thought Hansol was going to touch his face, but then he dropped to pat his shoulder instead.

“I don’t,” he said low enough for Seungkwan’s ears only. His hand was gone from Seungkwan’s shoulder, and he shifted his face in the opposite direction. “You have no idea, Seungkwan…” he whispered.

_You have no idea. _Those words were going to follow Seungkwan for the remainder of tonight. What did he have no idea about? About where Hansol’s heart lay? Hansol was tying Seungkwan’s mind into a knot.

“I gave Minghao his gifts.” Hansol switched the subject with a lighter tone. Seungkwan was almost glad.

“Really? Did he like them?”

“‘Course he did! I had to tell him you helped me. I couldn’t _not _give you credit. He said he’s thankful. I like Minghao, it’s nice having him around here.” He chuckled, “the other day he told me he was looking forward to meeting more beautiful people to draw. He said Europe has the most stunning faces and souls.”

Seungkwan smiled._ I think America does._

Hansol pulled out a cigarette from the pocket of his trunks and patted them. “Shit, I brought a cigarette and not a lighter.”

“I’ll fetch it.” Seungkwan shot up to his feet.

“Thanks. I should’ve left it on my bed,” Hansol directed.

Leaving Hansol, Seungkwan made his way back to the garden. There were only a few in the pool by now, most bodies lying around the grass instead, the music still echoing into the open of the garden. Seungkwan stepped over towels and shoes and skipped inside. Jisoo and Minghao were talking idly in the kitchen with drinks in their hands, and Minghao with a blunt. He must have guessed that Seungkwan was leaving since he called out for him when Seungkwan reached the hallway.

“Seungkwan, I wanted to tell you something,” Minghao said as he approached. He put down his glass of cola, probably mixed with something alcoholic, on the table beside them. “I know. You’re not leaving yet. But I wanted to tell you before I forget.” Sometimes it felt like Minghao could read Seungkwan merely from the way he held himself.

Minghao’s lips were pressed into a closed smile as he stared earnestly at Seungkwan. Seungkwan couldn’t figure out if Minghao was waiting for him to ask for him to tell, or if he was _just _staring. But then, he opened his mouth and gripped Seungkwan’s upper arm.

“Don’t sit and let this opportunity pass by you, Seungkwan. Souls like ours only come face to face with an opening like this _once_.” His hand squeezed and his stare deepened. “Don’t waste it.”

Seungkwan paused, looking into Minghao’s steady gaze.

“I give you my word,” he whispered. Minghao pulled him in for a sincere hug. Rather shaken, Seungkwan rested his chin on Minghao’s shoulder and stared down the hallway and through the kitchen, at the glimpse of the backyard. Were those tears brimming in his eyes? He was almost to cry in the face of truth. Minghao was observant but it still came to a surprise that he seemed to know. Seungkwan liked to think he was subtle, but if Minghao knew, did anyone else? Mingyu? His friends? Or perhaps one of his sisters? His mother?

_Hansol_?

Minghao returned to the kitchen and Seungkwan hurried upstairs; he still had to fetch the lighter. Upon reaching the bedroom that Hansol and Jisoo shared, Seungkwan could let his shoulders fall. A short huff escaped from his lips. He turned to Hansol’s bed and wanted nothing more than to lay between his sheets.

The lighter was there, on the bed. He put it in the pocket of his shorts and turned to the door. Wait. He didn’t want to leave yet.

Seungkwan had never looked through another’s personal belongings before, he’d never had the desire to. But he wanted to discover Hansol.

He spun around to face the room.

It began with him sitting on Hansol’s bed, running a hand across the sheets. This was where he slept, where he dreamt. He looked up and saw the dreamcatcher that he’d gifted to Hansol last night. It struck his heart. To see something that he had put his time and affection into, hanging above Hansol’s bed.

He progressed to Hansol’s closet. Everything smelled like him. All of it. Seungkwan couldn’t get enough of it, looking through the clothes and recognising the shirts he’d worn and the ones he was yet to see Hansol in. Oh, how he wanted to take one of his t-shirts off the clothes hanger, remove his own shirt, and put on Hansol’s. To become him.

There was a satchel bag on the top shelf of the closet that caught Seungkwan’s eye. He raised onto his toes to reach it, ever so carefully bringing it down and placing it on the floor. If anyone was to walk in now, there was no excuse. But Seungkwan didn’t care anymore.

There were a ton of sketch pads that he opened the bag to - almost all of them looked used, with loose pages hanging out, some tattered at the edges, some covered in pencil smudges. Just one look. Seungkwan understood that one’s artwork was intensely personal, especially raw sketches in a book.

Yet he wanted to understand every part of Hansol, and this was a part that he hadn’t seen yet.

A small sketchpad at the front, Seungkwan pulled that one out. This must be the one that Hansol had used most recently. Gripping at the corners of each page and turning, there were rough yet captivating illustrations of human anatomy, and then the next page, Italian scenery, then an unfinished sketch of a small bird. It was true that Hansol had talent; the way he drew captured both realism and aspects of himself. Each line was carefree, easy. It seemed as though Hansol didn’t ponder on mistakes, as Seungkwan could hardly find areas where he’d erased.

Everything was so honest.

When Seungkwan reached a page near the back, he stopped. He knew that face. Of course, he knew that face. It was _his _face. Perhaps only half of his face, but his face nonetheless. An incomplete sketch of his face.

Seungkwan exhaled out of utter disbelief. He traced the pencil etchings with his fingertip, careful not to smudge it. Hansol had made him look thoroughly beautiful, almost looking to the side with such a soft expression. The lips held the most detail, Seungkwan could see this was where Hansol had spent most of his time on. He hadn’t forgotten anything, from the shape to the way the light hit his nether lip, the way they parted to almost hint at his teeth.

Those were his lips. This was his face. Hansol had drawn him.

Seungkwan wanted to stare longer, though he knew Hansol was waiting for him to return. So, he put the sketchpad back, shoving the satchel back where it came from and closing the closet. He returned to the backyard and passed Hansol the lighter, trying his hardest to act as if he hadn’t just uncovered a secret of his. Though he knew, this was all that was going to play his mind whenever he looked at Hansol.

“Thanks.” Hansol finally lit his cigarette. “Get stopped at a red light?” he asked and flashed a smirk around the cigarette. Seungkwan chuckled at Hansol’s way of asking, what took you so long?

“Minghao just stopped to chat,” Seungkwan said and already the guilt of doing something he shouldn’t have was manifesting within him. The worst kind of guilt. “I saw you hung up the dreamcatcher.”

Hansol smiled. “Yeah, I did as soon as I got back.” Seungkwan smiled too.

They sat here a while longer, looking at the stars and the silhouettes of the swaying trees against the midnight-blue sky. Seungkwan listened to the leaves rustle gently, whispering to him. He placed his palms behind him and leaned his weight back on them, closing his eyes and letting the nature of night-time talk to him, disregarding the distant music and chatter of the party far behind them. He liked sharing these moments with Hansol, when nobody spoke, only their surroundings.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Seungkwan,” Hansol spoke up.

Seungkwan did not budge. “About what?”

“Camilla. Just, don’t take me for that type of man.” There was such rare vulnerability in Hansol’s voice almost as if he was begging for Seungkwan to take him for his word. For Hansol to have brought this up again, he must be hyper-aware of Seungkwan’s feelings. It both terrified and thrilled Seungkwan.

He opened his eyes and tilted his head away from the sky to see that Hansol was already looking at him. “What type is that?”

“You know. The type of man to take advantage of a holiday and sleep around.”

That settled it. The glimmer of hope that Hansol’s drawing had brought was immediately eclipsed. It wouldn’t ever go there. If Hansol didn’t want anything to do with the women here, what more could he want with a man?

“Is that how you think I perceive you?” he asked, unable to look away from Hansol. “Because it isn’t.” Seungkwan was speaking bravely.

Hansol shook his head and took a drag from his cigarette. “No. I just wouldn’t ever want you to.” Seungkwan watched the shape of his lips when he blew the smoke out.

“Don’t worry. I won’t,” he uttered and shuffled on the step, closer to Hansol so there wasn’t such a distance between them. They sat quietly for a moment as Seungkwan gathered up the courage to ask a question. He looked down at his feet in his espadrilles and parted his lips.

“How do you perceive me, Hansol?”

Silence.

“How do I perceive you?” Hansol paused. “I think you’re just like me.”

Before Hansol could elaborate or Seungkwan could ask questions, Sojeong arrived with a bright hello. Seungkwan could tell she’d had a generous amount to drink from the smile that didn’t leave her face. Sojeong always had a positive reaction to alcohol, drunken with joy. She told Seungkwan they had to head home now, and Hansol said he was going to stay here.

“Oh, goodnight, Hansol,” Seungkwan said over his shoulder as Sojeong hooked his arm and began to leave. Hansol smiled and it brought Seungkwan solace.

“What time is it?”

“Gone midnight.” Seungkwan just wanted to sleep. Today, his emotions had been tossed into a roaring ocean of eternal thrashing waves. Hansol’s words had been the final blow before he was washed up on the shore.

Seungkwan had always known, but never admitted to himself. It was time he acknowledged. What he felt for Hansol was a desire, a want, an _I-only-feel-okay-when-I’m-beside-you, I feel whole. _Seungkwan felt everything for Hansol.

_Is there any chance between you and I, Hansol? What has Minghao seen in us that you haven’t? Or have you? Listening to my every word even when everyone else had moved on, placing my hand in your hair, sleeping on my shoulder, somehow knowing, just knowing, that I was upset the day I missed my father. And the drawing of me and how you see us as the same. I must know. Have I been overthinking everything? Or was there intent? I’m going to find out, Hansol - there is no one else I can obtain these answers from, but you..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, stay safe <3 Maybe I'll have more time to write during isolation now :)


	8. Honeybee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/peachkwan1)   
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Hansol was stung by a honeybee this morning - it was the first time he’d ever been stung by one. The attack was out of the blue, as he smoked a cigarette out the front of the house with Mingyu, waiting for Minghao to finish packing. It was fresh early morning, still a hint of morning mist through the trees that lined the front fence.

Like most days, Hansol wore a simple t-shirt and shorts which granted plenty of skin on show for any type of insect. He must’ve irritated the bee when he’d wafted his hand to clear the smoke between him and Mingyu, to see Mingyu’s face when he spoke. A sharp prick on his forearm caught him off-guard and he yelped out, jerking his arm and dropping his cigarette on the gravel. Mingyu laughed at the outburst, asking what on earth was wrong with him. Hansol winced at what the honeybee had left for him on his arm: her precious stinger.

He brushed it off and mumbled, “I think I just got stung.” Observing the floor around his feet, he couldn’t spot the dying bee. That could’ve been for the better; it would have upset him to see the thing struggling.

“Really?” Mingyu’s tone raised. As he approached, he discarded his cigarette in the ashtray where there were a table and two chairs near the front door. He picked up Hansol’s along the way and put it out. Hansol watched him lean in and inspect his arm. “Come on, I’ll get you some ice. We’ve got plenty of time.” He gestured to the door with his head. Hansol followed him. It made him feel like a child.

Running his arm under the cold water, Hansol looked over his shoulder at Mingyu who was crouched in front of the freezer, rummaging around to look for the ice. He listened to the running water and the birdsongs coming in from the backyard, to avert his attention away from the pain. A bee sting certainly wasn’t the most pleasing way to be greeted good morning, especially when he felt rather dazed after last night.

“How does it look now?” Mingyu asked when he stood at the counter, wrapping a handful of ice in a dishcloth. Hansol turned off the faucet.

“Weird,” he muttered, staring closely at the white skin that surrounded the redness. He thought it resembled a target.

“Here.” Mingyu passed him the makeshift cold compress and Hansol pressed it down on his arm - the coldness was more soothing than the water, more relieving. Mingyu yawned and rested his forearms on the island countertop.

“Did you get a better sleep last night?” Hansol asked. It had passed midnight by the time everybody left last night. By then, Mingyu was terribly drunk and after tidying up, he’d retreated straight to bed. Hansol chose to stay up a little longer, to be on his own. To think.

“Much better. If only I didn’t have to get up so early this morning,” Mingyu groaned into another yawn. He pinched between his tensed brows. “I might have a slight hangover,” he grumbled. Hansol scoffed at him, smiling to the side.

“My head hurts a little, but I didn’t drink as much as you,” he said, watching Mingyu rub his forehead.

“Minghao is taking forever. I’m gonna take a painkiller. You want some for your arm?” Mingyu stood up straight and glanced down at Hansol’s arm. Hansol had lifted the ice from it for a moment, as it was beginning to numb. He shook his head.

“I’ll be okay.”

Mingyu shrugged and turned to the cupboard with the medicine and medical kits. Hansol pressed the cold compress down on his arm again and played with the cloth between his fingers. Truth be told, the pain was fierce, but he didn’t want to let Mingyu know that he had trouble swallowing pills.

“Mingyu-ya.”

“_Hm_?” Mingyu hummed with his back to Hansol as he fished for the painkillers.

Hansol took his gaze out the window above the sink to watch the lemon tree that stood bright and lush in the backyard. “Did you have a dream the other night, too? When we were both awake.” He thought he would take the opportunity to ask Mingyu, since they were alone.

“I guess I never told you, did I?” Mingyu glanced over his shoulder as he pushed two capsules out of the packet, falling into his palm. “It wasn’t a dream. It was just something playing on my mind. It was really keeping me up.”

Hansol couldn’t think of what Mingyu could’ve been grieving over; he almost always came off as completely carefree and vibrant. Then again, the brightest light had the darkest shadow.

“It’s, uhm…” Mingyu paused to throw the pills into his mouth, tossing his head back and swallowing. Hansol tried not to cringe. “I talked to Wonwoo hyung that night. He said some things that kind of struck me.” His voice was small as he turned to put the box back and close the cupboard.

Hansol didn’t want to pry, but he wanted to confirm that everything was okay between them. “You didn’t fall out, did you? It doesn’t look like you have.”

Mingyu returned to the counter. “No, nothing’s changed between us. Well, it has, but- doesn’t matter.” Mingyu laughed it off and shook his head. “How much does it hurt?” He gestured to Hansol’s arm.

“Way more than I thought it would.”

Mingyu bumped his shoulder in a friendly manner. “You’ll live.” He smiled. 

When Minghao came downstairs with his luggage, Hansol threw the melting ice into the sink and left the dishcloth. Minghao pointed out the sting when they filled the boot of the car. It was more noticeable now since the cold from the ice had reddened the area on his arm.

“I heard somewhere that being stung is a punishment for sinning. Or something weird like that,” Minghao said when they got into the car. He sat in the passenger seat - Hansol had the back of the car to himself.

“Really?” Mingyu started the car. “I thought it was more of a good luck thing.”

With his elbow on the rolled-down window, Hansol watched the hazy countryside roll by. He decided to look past the superstitions behind a bee sting.

The closer they got to the airport, the more Hansol was filled with sorrow to say goodbye to Minghao. Granted, he would probably see him again after summer, but he was going to miss him for the remainder of his time here. Mingyu expressed the same sorrow by trying his best to persuade Minghao with reasons he should stay - he did that for almost the entire journey.

It turned out that by the time they arrived, Minghao was running late. Thus, their goodbye was short and sweet. As Mingyu was unloading the car, Hansol hugged Minghao. Even if Minghao wasn’t much of a hugger. He patted between his shoulder blades with his palm, watching over his shoulder at Mingyu who was busy lifting a bag out of the car.

“Keep up with your creativity, yeah?” Minghao spoke into Hansol’s ear. He pulled out of the hug and let Minghao take his luggage from Mingyu.

“Of course, I will,” he reassured Minghao, following him and Mingyu to the pavement.

“Good!” He shot Hansol one last smile before heading to the airport entrance. “I’ll catch you later, Hansol!” he called out with Mingyu by his side, throwing a salute and disappearing into the building.

For the following minutes, Hansol sat in the car with his feet on the dashboard, examining his arm and the pain. He should’ve taken those painkillers. Mingyu had left the car running - Hansol listened to it rumble, watching tourists as they passed by.

Mingyu returned with the same energy that he’d left with, the car door bursting open and him falling into the driver’s seat with a loud sigh. The car dipped with the enthusiasm of his entrance. Hansol was woken from his thoughts.

“I’m so hungry,” Mingyu groaned as he started up the car, then looked across to Hansol. “Shall we stop for breakfast somewhere?” he asked. Hansol didn’t care at all - if Mingyu wanted breakfast somewhere, they were having breakfast somewhere.

“Sure.”

“You’re not picky at all, are you?” Mingyu chuckled and turned his attention ahead of them to steer away from the pavement that he’d parked beside. Hansol watched the thin woven bracelets fall down Mingyu’s wrist as he turned the steering wheel. The sunlight burst through the window at the new angle that the car had turned to. Hansol’s eyes narrowed.

“I guess not.”

There was a caffé in a passing piazza that Mingyu decided on. According to Mingyu, the name translated to ‘most delicious’. They sat at the seating area outside the front, drinking cappuccino and eating pastry. It was hotter now than when they’d left the house - Mingyu had put on his sunglasses and unfastened another button on his mint green shirt, the collar splayed open.

“What’re you doing today?” Mingyu asked gently over the quiet chatter of people who walked past them, and the cars that drove by calmly. Hansol didn’t have any plans today. His plan last night had been to suggest something to do with Seungkwan today, but he never found the chance to. He wished Seungkwan had stayed a while longer.

“Maybe I’ll paint.” On days where Hansol had nothing planned, he would’ve usually smoked with Minghao somewhere quiet, or watched Minghao flick through his artwork. Now that Minghao was gone, Hansol had no plans for when he had no plans.

“I’ll be on the farm today with Seungkwan,” Mingyu said and brushed his hands together after finishing his cornetto pastry. Hansol didn’t want any more of his, so he navigated his small plate through the decoration on the table to reach Mingyu. Mingyu needed no instruction before he finished off Hansol’s offering.

Hansol leaned back in his chair and looked to his left at the street. His eyes followed a turquoise scooter that flew by.

“I know. You probably wanna spend time with Seungkwan.” Mingyu’s words brought Hansol’s attention to the front again. There was a smile on Mingyu’s lips now, with his canines poking into his bottom lip. “Seungkwan probably wants to spend time with you, too!” he chuckled before scooting his chair back on the cobblestone ground and standing up. Hansol finished the last of his cappuccino before doing the same.

“Where did you get that idea from?” Hansol asked him when they were walking to the car. Mingyu had parked down the street on the avenue. He was walking with his hands in his pockets and his eyes ahead. He shrugged.

“You’re close.” Hansol kept his gaze on Mingyu, as if to ask for him to elaborate. Mingyu must’ve caught on. “I know he likes you a lot. Just as much as you like him.” Hansol was aware that Mingyu was approaching this in terms of their platonic dynamic, but he couldn’t stop his mind from taking the words in a different sense. It was rather out of character for Hansol to do this, to flip somebody’s words in order to fuel his fantasy.

There was still a sting that shot through Hansol’s arm. When he returned, he made another cold compress and shared the bench with Wonwoo on the patio. Wonwoo and Jisoo had just finished breakfast, and now Jisoo was washing up in the kitchen - Hansol could hear the clatter of plates through the window just behind their heads. It was somewhat soothing, because of how gentle Jisoo treated the tableware.

Wonwoo was upbeat today, talking more than usual. Hansol could only speculate on whatever he had told Mingyu; he wouldn’t ever ask. But as he thought about it, he could not come up with anything that would’ve been uncomfortable enough to have kept Mingyu awake. Wonwoo and Mingyu were good friends - incredibly good friends - and Hansol had always kept a thought far back in his mind that there could be something more beneath the surface. Perhaps Wonwoo had broken through the surface that night. Or perhaps Hansol was mirroring his own feelings onto somebody else’s situation, and his theory was completely wrong. Besides, this wasn’t any of his business.

Wonwoo asked Hansol why he had the ice on his arm, so Hansol lifted the cloth to reveal the sting. Wonwoo didn’t hiss through his teeth nor scrunch up his face, he simply craned his neck in closer to look at it for less than three seconds.

“I see.”

There was almost no sympathy shown in Wonwoo’s face or his voice and it amused Hansol to think of how Seungkwan’s reaction would contrast Wonwoo’s.

“Sorry I didn’t come with you to the airport. I just completely slept in,” Wonwoo said a moment later.

“It’s okay,” Hansol reassured. “I’m surprised Mingyu got up!”

Wonwoo huffed in a charmed way.

There were shuffling footsteps coming from the kitchen that Hansol expected was Jisoo. That was until a head of blond hair appeared from the back door. It was Seungkwan. Hansol should’ve known that it was Seungkwan from the way he could hear him failing to pick up his heels as he walked. It was a charming quality of his.

“Morning, Seungkwan,” Wonwoo said brightly. Seungkwan gave a brief smile. He appeared too caught up in something to reply with a greeting.

“Have you seen Mingyu hyung?” He drummed his fingers on the doorframe. His eyes were locked onto Wonwoo, most likely for the simple reason that Wonwoo had caught Seungkwan’s attention first. Hansol stared at Seungkwan regardless. He was glowing today, and his gentle eyes caught the sun.

“Upstairs,” Hansol said and successfully stole Seungkwan’s focus from Wonwoo. For the split second that Seungkwan returned his gaze, Hansol was blessed.

All it was, was a short moment before Seungkwan swiftly left without thanking Hansol - must be urgent to find Mingyu. That was when the thought transpired in Hansol’s mind. It was quite an unusual thought, but Hansol realised how much he wanted to be Mingyu, how he wanted to be the one that Seungkwan was urgent to find. Hansol desired to be the one who provided Seungkwan with such warming relief and joy when he was found.

“Where did Seungkwan go last night? I didn’t see him much. Or was I just way too stoned?” Wonwoo chuckled. Hansol finally looked away from the doorframe where Seungkwan had been to meet Wonwoo’s eyes. “

“Later on? I found him far back on the steps, so I stayed with him. Just to talk. I think he was getting tired. I dunno.” Hansol was influenced by alcohol last night, but not enough to lose memory of what he’d said to Seungkwan. He could remember the look on Seungkwan’s face when he mentioned that he wasn’t interested in Camilla. He tried to play it as a hint for Seungkwan, what he’d said. Maybe Seungkwan hadn’t wanted it to show, but Hansol caught the glimmer of hope in his eyes - perhaps that glint reflected what could be seen in _his _eyes...

Hansol left shortly after watching Seungkwan and Mingyu cross the garden and disappear behind the trees, as they made their way to the farm.

On his own, he rode his bike into town to visit the art supply store; he’d developed the urge to paint on a tiny canvas; it was a way to challenge himself and see how much detail he could fit onto such a tiny area.

Since it was reaching noon, the piazzetta was livening up. Hansol loved the rush of fresh air in his face when he rode down the slope through the side-street to reach the wide opening of the piazzetta. His bike rolled over the cobblestone and he let it come to a stop when he reached the square. It wasn’t often that Hansol came here by himself.

After buying the canvas, Hansol decided to walk his bike through the area. He threw his light backpack back over his shoulder and wiped his forearm across his forehead - the air was humid now. The restaurants and shops that he strolled by were busy, as he mindlessly carried his gaze between warm strangers. It could have been too early to think about, but he was going to miss this city. Hansol could already foresee the pining for this place when he was to return to New York. There was a chance that the opportunity would spark again, where Mingyu could invite him, but Hansol doubted the time and the money for him to do so.

_For now, this was all just once. Just this once._

Turning to a bright street of more shops, Hansol spotted, amongst the other faces, two familiar ones that were approaching. Seeing as it was a Sunday, Hansol figured that Seungkwan and his family had been to church this morning, and his mother and Jinseol stayed in town after the service.

“Hello, Hansol,” Mrs Boo greeted warmly. Hansol gave her and Jinseol a light bow. She wasn’t carrying anything with her apart from a small handbag that hung from her shoulder, so maybe they were just on their way to shop. “Are you on your own?” she asked him as they stepped to the side of the street to avoid the passers-by.

“Yeah, I am. I just came from the art store.”

“I’d love to see your artwork sometime, Hansol. I have a feeling you’re very talented!” Jinseol spoke up with a soft smile. Hansol saw a glimpse of Seungkwan in her smile - correction - he saw a glimpse of Seungkwan in everything.

Mrs Boo nodded eagerly. “Come over for dinner and bring some of your art. You’ve become good friends with Seungkwan, so I’d love to hear more about you.” There it was again - it seemed like everybody could spot Hansol’s friendship with Seungkwan.

Hansol was unsure about the idea of sharing dinner with Seungkwan’s family, as much as he wished to please them. There was quite a difference between them.

“Sure.” But he couldn’t have said no. “Any day, I can make it.”

“Well, tonight we have my friends with us, and tomorrow is the translator...” Mrs Boo muttered to herself. “Wednesday. Does that sound good to you?”

“Perfect,” Hansol said. Shortly after that, he left them both with a kind goodbye. He climbed onto his bike and pedalled leisurely down the street. On his way back, Hansol thought about how Wednesday evening would play out - what kind of questions that Seungkwan’s mother wanted to ask him, and if Jinseol would like his art. He knew that it shouldn’t matter if they chose to dislike him afterwards, anyway. Yet since he had become so close with Seungkwan, would that change anything between them? Even though it was not the case, Hansol almost felt as if it was the same scenario of a man attempting to win over the validation of his lover’s parents. So far, Mrs Boo seemed to show nothing but interest in Hansol, but he knew that it was very easy to change opinions - especially with the scenario he was in.

_I dreamt about kissing your son. Do you hate me now?_

On that small, square canvas he had bought, Hansol chose to paint the bees that fluttered sparsely around the flower beds. On the grass, he sat close to them, surrounded by his paints, and hoped to not be stung again. His arm was calming down now, with only the occasional sting to remind him that it was still there.

The flowers that the bees seemed to like the most were the Foxgloves - at least that was what Wonwoo had told him they were called, as he’d come to sit beside him and watch for a little while. Hansol was drawn to the tint of these flowers, some were the colour of a warm sunset, and some were lilac through to blue. The bee would sit inside the open mouth of a chosen Foxglove head and gather its nectar.

Hansol painted it all on this little canvas. He was so deep in focus, on the fine details, that he chewed on his bottom lip. His lip was too often the subject of his focus or anxiety - it wasn’t uncommon for him to be seen with a small wound on his nether lip, a redder tint than his usually light pink lips. By now, it didn’t bother him. Even this afternoon, as he began to taste blood on his tongue whilst he was painting, it was almost natural for him to casually drop everything and head to the kitchen. On his way, he looked down at his hands - they were covered in patches of paint.

Seungkwan was in the kitchen when he stepped inside. He was pouring what looked like a self-made smoothie into a tall glass.

“Don’t tell Mingyu!” he yapped. “I needed a break.” Hansol walked around the counter to take a sheet of kitchen paper towel from the roll beside the sink, all whilst smiling at Seungkwan’s dramatically played out sigh. He felt Seungkwan’s curious eyes on him as he folded the tissue before briefly running it under the water.

“What’s that for?” Seungkwan eventually asked.

“My lip.” Hansol turned off the water. He heard Seungkwan put his glass down on the counter.

“Let me see,” he said gently, taking the tissue from Hansol. Hansol couldn’t stop Seungkwan. He let Seungkwan lift his chin and carefully dab the tissue on his lip. Hansol was still. His gaze was on Seungkwan’s features as he concentrated on his lip. “It looks painful!” Seungkwan was speaking in that voice he would speak to children with, when he pouted his lips and cooed.

How easy it could have been for Hansol to lean in a few more inches and bridge the gap between their lips.

“It’s fine,” he tried to say without moving his lips as Seungkwan pressed the tissue down.

“You chew gum! Not your lip!” Seungkwan scolded playfully. Hansol couldn’t help but smile, which only made Seungkwan scold him again, cupping Hansol’s cheek with his free hand for more stability. Hansol’s heart was pounding. His hands were itching to land on Seungkwan’s shoulders, or his waist or his hips. But he kept them loosely by his own sides.

_Is it only me who is feeling this, Seungkwan?_

“The bleeding is calming down,” Seungkwan muttered. He tapped Hansol’s lip once more before dropping his hand. Hansol stood still and watched Seungkwan walk around the island to throw the tissue into the bin. He came back and washed his hands before he resumed his smoothie. Hansol wanted to thank him but it seemed like the moment to do so had already passed - it had passed whilst he’d stood there, a little shaken up.

“What’s in there?” He gestured to the thick liquid in Seungkwan’s glass that had a light pink tint to it. Seungkwan took a sip from it and wiped his mouth.

“Just yoghurt and a bunch of fresh fruits.” He took a bigger gulp and smiled with a scrunched nose as he let out a cheerful ‘_mmm!_’ “It’s yummy!” Something about the simple innocence of Seungkwan blissfully enjoying the smoothie he had concocted was precious. Hansol would’ve smiled wider if it hadn’t hurt his lip.

“Want some?” Seungkwan suggested and lifted the glass between them, his pretty eyes waiting on Hansol. As much as Hansol wanted to taste Seungkwan’s smoothie, as elated as he would have been to drink from the glass Seungkwan drank from, he decided not to. If Hansol let his lips touch where Seungkwan’s had, he might drive himself crazy.

With his tiny painting, he’d strained his eyes quite a bit, so he decided to hang around in the shade of the kitchen with Seungkwan a while longer. He rested the small of his back against the sink and placed his hands there too. Seungkwan’s eyes flitted to his hands then up to his eyes again.

“I saw you painting. What are you working on?” The way Seungkwan lifted his gaze to look at Hansol was similar in the way that a woman would. It was like he barely tilted his head up, only his eyes, looking through his lashes. It was almost _seductive_. Maybe it was only Hansol who found it seductive and Seungkwan only looked at him like this because of their height difference.

Hansol cleared his throat. “There’s Foxgloves at the flowerbeds and bees collecting nectar from them. I’m trying to capture that,” he explained and let his eyes follow the smoothie as it slid down the neck of the glass and into Seungkwan’s mouth.

He swallowed before he spoke. “Oh yeah! Mingyu told me you got stung this morning.”

Hansol had entirely forgotten about any pain in his arm since entering the kitchen. He looked down at his arm and lightly brushed his finger over the pink area. “Yeah. First time getting stung.”

“Really?” Seungkwan’s brows raised. “It’s strange, I only seem to ever get stung here. Never back home.”

Hansol chuckled. “They mustn't like foreigners here.” His joke had earned a smile and a playful punch on the arm from Seungkwan. He felt accomplished.

“I saw your mom and your sister in town. She invited me over for dinner on Wednesday,” Hansol said. He would have expected Seungkwan’s face to light up, although he seemed to react almost the same as how Hansol reacted to the matter. Hansol wondered if he was having the same thought process too - or if he was lifting his hopes too high to expect that.

“It’ll be nice to have you there,” Seungkwan said with his lips behind his glass.

“Are you sure?” Hansol’s tone shifted, which altered the air between them. It felt like last night again when they sat on the steps - unspoken words that lingered between them. Seungkwan put his glass down and turned his body to face Hansol properly. Hansol kept his shoulder facing Seungkwan, as he looked to the side to meet his gaze.

Seungkwan had the same expression as the night when Hansol had forgotten to take the dreamcatcher with him, and Seungkwan had chased after him, and then paused. When Hansol could tell he was forming a sentence in his mind before it was discarded.

Hansol could see it all again now. Seungkwan opened his mouth, yet all that left his lips were a defeated sigh.

“Of course, I’m sure.” He smiled at Hansol.

“Seungkwan!” Mingyu burst into the kitchen and the rope between Hansol and Seungkwan was snapped. Seungkwan pouted and let out an elongated whine.

“You weren’t supposed to find me!”

“I’ve been looking for you! Come on, help me whilst the cows are grazing,” Mingyu said. His face was damp with sweat and his hair was swept out of his face.

Seungkwan shuffled to the door where Mingyu left into the garden again, probably expecting Seungkwan to be on his tail. “Have the rest, Hansol.” He nodded to the smoothie that he’d left on the counter before disappearing outside too.

Seungkwan was always leaving him in question.

Hansol couldn’t bring himself to drink from Seungkwan’s glass. He poured the smoothie in the sink and rinsed the glass.

Back in the garden, he didn’t let himself think about anything other than what his eyes were showing him - the bees and the flowers. He could hear Wonwoo and Jisoo in the pool now, but their voices were too distant to distract him.

Whenever he took a breath and looked away from the scene, his eyes were drawn to the farm behind the tall farmhouse walls, through the trees. _What are you sharing with Mingyu? Are you telling him what you can’t seem to tell me?_

When Hansol was finished with his painting, he left it on the bench where he and Wonwoo had sat earlier, for the paint to dry. He was pleased with the outcome; for such a tiny space to work on, he’d managed to fit enough detail without overloading it. There was a pleasing colour scheme, and the yellow of the honeybees stood out nicely against the sunset-colour and sky-blue flowers.

He washed his brushes and palette under the faucet around the side of the house, along with the old cup of water that he’d used to dip them in. For as long as he’d sat amongst the flower beds, the sun had been burning directly onto his back. When he slid his wet palm under his t-shirt and rested it against his spine, fortunately, it wasn’t sore, only very warm. After everything was clean, he scrubbed as much dried paint from the skin of his hands as he could’ve.

He thought about going to the farm, to see Seungkwan and Mingyu, but decided to stay here. Besides, Seungkwan went back home not long after, around the time that Jisoo served a late lunch.

Eating together was certainly different without Minghao’s calm presence. Hansol listened to Jisoo and Wonwoo talk about Plato’s Symposium. Hansol had seen the book in Wonwoo’s hands recently— Jisoo must’ve lent it to him. It didn’t sound like Jisoo was explaining Aristophanes, as he had done with Hansol. No, he couldn’t recognise what he was talking about this time.

Mingyu had finished eating before the others and had already excused himself to take a shower. Hansol remained at the dining table in the backyard to listen to Jisoo and Wonwoo talk. He wasn’t listening as closely as Wonwoo was, yet he picked up on some of Jisoo’s words. It was relaxing to listen to their voices blend with the cicadas, whilst feeling the sun on his face.

“You read up on what Pausanias said, didn’t you? I quite enjoy his speech,” Jisoo said, leaning back in his chair after finishing his food.

“About the two types of love?” Wonwoo asked and received a nod from Jisoo. Hansol’s fascination sparked; surely there was only one type of love, right? He looked at Jisoo beside him and asked if he could elaborate. Jisoo crossed his leg over his knee and twisted to face Hansol.

“Pausanias believed in common love and heavenly love. Common love is shared between male and female and is more interested in the body and the soul. Only on sexual activities. Heavenly love is usually between young and developing males. Love between the mind and soul,” Jisoo explained with his soothing voice. Hansol nodded his head to show that he’d grasped everything he’d said.

“The heavenly love…” For some reason, Hansol felt too shy to word his curiosity into a fully-fledged question. He was reluctant to ask. Though Jisoo seemed to understand that it was his attempt to ask for more.

“Heavenly love overlooks physical appearance. It comes from deep within the soul. It’s pure love. You could look at common love as, like, lust, I guess.” He stretched his arm to the table to take a sip of water.

“He said common love is the bad one, right?” Wonwoo questioned from the other side of the table.

“Yes, because it is drawn to the body, not the mind.”

Wonwoo seemed uncomfortable for a moment, like he was struggling to speak the words on his mind. His brows were tensed, and his eyes were fixed on the table rather than Jisoo.

“How rare is heavenly love?” he asked. Hansol had thought about that question too. Jisoo was quiet as he thought.

“I would say it’s hard to come across. It demands a great deal of self-control and strength. And I think it’s obvious that not many young men have this.”

“Right…” Wonwoo nodded. The conversation was left there as Wonwoo picked up his plate and got out of his chair. Yet it felt as though questions still hung in the air...

After lunch, Hansol wanted to see Seungkwan. When he arrived at the villa and asked for him, Sojeong told him that he was down at the camper. Just like Seungkwan, this was one of Hansol’s favourite places. Only one thing he hoped was that he wouldn’t find Seungkwan teary-eyed this time. He lightly hit his knuckles on the body of the vehicle.

“Seungkwan?” There was the faint tune coming from a quiet radio inside, but no noise from Seungkwan. He stepped inside and his eyes rested upon Seungkwan’s body that was stretched across the bed - like a sleeping angel. Hansol let out a sigh through his smiling lips. Seungkwan’s stomach was rising and falling gracefully and Hansol switched off the radio to listen to his gentle breathing.

“Seungkwan,” he whispered to himself. _You’ve stolen my heart._

He must’ve wanted to get some rest after working on the farm today. As enchanted as he was by the sight, Hansol didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to disturb Seungkwan, yet he didn’t want to leave him. He could wait until Seungkwan woke up. If only... If only he could slip into the space behind Seungkwan on the bed and hold him in his arms. If only he could fall asleep with his face buried in the warmth of his neck.

Shaking the thought from his head, he sat beside Seungkwan’s feet on the bed. He hadn’t noticed that, through the motion, his arm brushed against a book on the shelf. He winced as he watched it hit the floor with a thud, and then darted his eyes to Seungkwan.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Hansol grumbled and watched Seungkwan’s eyes flutter open. He sat up slowly and rubbed them. Hansol placed the book back where it’d fallen from, filled with guilt. “You can go back to sleep if you want, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he rambled.

Seungkwan’s hair was dishevelled as he shook his head and ran his fingers through it. “It’s okay,” he croaked. His voice was heavy with sleep. “If I go back to sleep, I might not wake up until tomorrow,” he giggled lazily before yawning and stretching his arms up. Hansol shouldn’t have paid attention to the groans that left Seungkwan’s lips…

“Did you just get here?” Seungkwan asked.

Hansol nodded. “_Mm_.”

There was something about the state that Seungkwan was in, the half-asleep state, that felt rare to Hansol. It was a side of Seungkwan that Hansol wouldn’t witness often. A side that perhaps his family would see. And his future lovers. Hansol envied the women who were going to wake up to such a tender sight.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep; I was just going to close my eyes for a few minutes. I guess I underestimated how tired I was,” Seungkwan said, on the brink of another yawn. It encouraged a yawn from Hansol too.

When Hansol spent time with Seungkwan at the campervan, it felt as though they were the only living souls to exist. It was another world, where only the two of them breathed and spoke and laughed. Here, there was nobody watching. Here, Hansol was completely himself.

Seungkwan shuffled on the bed until he was beside Hansol, with his feet flat on the floor too. Their eyes were on their feet.

“You just came here to see me, didn’t you?” Seungkwan asked although his question sounded more like a statement to Hansol.

He chuckled at how well Seungkwan knew him by now. “I did.” Naturally, his eyes shifted to Seungkwan. His cheeks were pink, most likely from the heat inside the camper. He stood up and stretched his legs, then stepped one foot out the camper and looked back.

“Let’s catch some sunshine.”

When Seungkwan had told him _let’s catch some sunshine_, Hansol could think of many activities that could branch under such a phrase: swimming in the lake, walking through the trees, or even playing a childish game together. The last thing that Hansol would’ve expected was to sit on the grass with his legs stretched out in front of him, and Seungkwan’s head in his lap as he lay the other way, parallel with the lake nearby.

This was something like a dream.

They talked carelessly in the heat, but Hansol found it hard to focus on what he was saying when Seungkwan was using his lap as a cushion. It almost felt natural when Seungkwan took one of his hands and played with his fingers, seeing as Seungkwan was a rather touchy person. In the most endearing way.

Still, Hansol’s heart was beating just like it had when Seungkwan tended to his lip. He rendered every touch from Seungkwan, every place that his fingers were touching his own hand and his fingers. How soft his skin felt against Hansol’s rough hands, how much more fragile his touch was.

“What’s this?” Seungkwan was swiping his index finger across the heel of Hansol’s right palm. He watched him trace the pink birthmark. “It’s heart-shaped,” Seungkwan mumbled as he was mesmerised, pulling Hansol’s hand closer to his eyes.

“It’s my birthmark.” Hansol observed the fascination on Seungkwan’s face as he couldn’t take his eyes away from the mark. He had his face close enough to Hansol’s hand for his warm breath to kiss the surface of his skin. If Hansol closed his eyes, he could almost imagine Seungkwan pressing his lips against the heart on his hand.

“How come I never noticed this?” Seungkwan shuffled, his head shifting in Hansol’s lap - Hansol was flustered by the movement.

“I dunno. Not many people do,” he spoke in a nonchalant tone, despite his heart that was leaping. Fond eyes rested on Seungkwan.

“You’re really special, Hansol. You are.”

Hansol did not want to be special to anyone else but Seungkwan. And the burning desire to make this known to Seungkwan was becoming unbearable. With small movements from his fingers, at a slow pace, he worked their way to thread between Seungkwan’s fingers. There were no words shared between them, only their breathing as Seungkwan took his turn, reluctantly folding his fingers down to hold Hansol’s hand. A part of Hansol hadn’t expected Seungkwan to follow through, he’d rather expected him to pull his hand back sharply as if Hansol was poison, and probably say something like _you and I both know how wrong that would be._ But no, Seungkwan was reciprocating.

Hansol continued, locking their hands together. It wasn’t strong; it was loose and timid, almost ghosting the embrace.

They didn’t let go when Seungkwan sat up. He faced Hansol. There was a particular look in his eyes that Hansol hadn’t seen before. Seungkwan moved closer in the grass and leaned into Hansol. He rested the point of his chin on Hansol’s right shoulder. Hansol kept still as he felt the weight of Seungkwan’s forehead on the side of his head. It was almost like Seungkwan was positioned to whisper into his ear. That was what Hansol anticipated, waiting on Seungkwan’s breath that hit the side of his face and his neck.

“Hansol,” he spoke softly - as soft as the birds overhead. Hansol waited - he almost didn’t want to breathe until Seungkwan spoke again. “Last night, you said I’m just like you. Right?”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

Hansol tilted his head by an inch, into Seungkwan’s direction. “You know what I mean.” It did not take a genius to figure out where Hansol’s words lay. _You’re just like me. I’m right, aren’t I? You feel what I feel._

Seungkwan let go of his hand. He distanced himself, standing up. Once again, they had tested the air between each other - nothing more than a test.

Remaining on the ground, Hansol kept his eyes on Seungkwan who had his back turned, walking closer to the still lake. His hands were in his hair and his shoulders dropped.

“How’s your arm?” He turned around. Hansol shot his glance to the side, as if that would convince Seungkwan that he hadn’t just been staring.

“Oh, the bee sting?” He had forgotten about it. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.” Was Seungkwan worried about it, or was he searching for another means of conversation to shift attention away from the previous one? Hansol couldn’t have blamed him.

Seeing that they were beneath a canopy of trees, the sunlight that came through cast moving shadows of the leaves across Seungkwan’s face. Hansol watched the faint shadows as the trees swayed. Seungkwan was staring back, perhaps watching the sunlight on Hansol’s face too.

Then, a smile emerged on his lips—it was shy. “Can I paint your nails?”

It was the day at Lake Garda that Hansol had figured Seungkwan had been told to remove the blue from his nails - the blue that Hansol had painted on for him just the day before. He hadn’t brought it up with Seungkwan because he could understand the potential that it was upsetting, even if it could’ve been Seungkwan’s decision himself to take it off. He didn’t want to risk it.

Hansol wondered if this was simply an excuse for Seungkwan to touch and admire his hands again. A part of him hoped that it was. They sat on the bed again as Seungkwan focused intently on Hansol’s hands.

“I’m trying really hard!” he groaned after staining Hansol’s fingertip with the blue nail polish for the third time. Hansol held back his amusement. His hand was splayed across Seungkwan’s bare lap, a palm on each thigh, where he could enjoy the softness of his skin. It turned out to be a struggle for Hansol to ignore his admiration for the skin of Seungkwan’s legs.

The beauty of them surpassed any legs of a female that Hansol had ever been graced by. Seungkwan’s legs were slender and smooth - less defined than Hansol’s. They were effeminate and Hansol enjoyed them, not because they almost resembled what made a woman’s legs attractive, but because they were Seungkwan’s. They showed a boyish charm, embellished with faint bruises and the vague outlines of his thighs and calf muscles.

“Has anyone ever complimented your legs before?” Hansol thought he probably should’ve held back from saying that, but something had pushed him to. Seungkwan’s head shot up. Amusement danced in his eyes, but Hansol could see the flattery that hid behind it. He knew that it wasn’t amusement that was forming the slight curve of his lips.

“I don’t think so.” Seungkwan giggled. “Are you gonna be the first one?” He dropped his head again, to resume painting Hansol’s nails. Hansol watched his hands. It would’ve been selfish for him to regret what he’d said now. So, he decided to follow his words.

“They’re soft, that’s all.” That was not all. “And pretty.” Could this count as finally returning Seungkwan’s ‘pretty’ compliment? Seungkwan kept his eyes low, smiling to himself. It appeared he absorbed compliments in a similar way to Hansol.

It was expected by Hansol that Seungkwan would give up on the nail polish, and he did after messily painting one hand. He laughed at Seungkwan’s excuse that was, “It’s hard to paint on such short nails!”

“But I did a good job, right? For my first try?” Seungkwan pulled Hansol’s painted hand closer to his sight. The way that Seungkwan cradled his hand made him weak.

He smiled. “You did.”

As Hansol blew his nails dry, he kept his eye on Seungkwan. Seungkwan had his back to him, looking out the small window above the top of the bed. He was quiet. There was a rise in his shoulders, like they were tense.

“Do you really mean it?” Seungkwan’s voice was muffled behind his folded arms. They rested on the heap of pillows, acting as a perch for Seungkwan to look out the window, at the woodland. Hansol stopped blowing on his nails. He assumed that Seungkwan was referring to his remark on the job he’d done with his nails.

“‘Course I do. You painted them pretty well,” he spoke in a hushed tone. There wasn’t a harsh note in his inflection.

“I don’t mean your nails, Hansol,” Seungkwan said in a rather blunt tone, yet somehow with a hue of playfulness.

“_Oh_.” There were things that Hansol found impossible to deny: his age, his mistakes, and Seungkwan. He hadn’t been lying about what he’d thought or said about Seungkwan’s legs. “Why would you question that?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly on the last word.

“It's not that I don’t believe you.”

_Then what is it, Seungkwan?_

“Just…” He turned around to face Hansol. Through their time spent together, Hansol had noticed Seungkwan’s capability and tendency to hold all his feelings in his face. It could be a curse and a gift, more so a gift for Hansol; now that Seungkwan had shown his face to him, Hansol understood what was going on in his mind.

“You see the beauty in everyone, don’t you?”

The sunlight that poured through the window from behind Seungkwan made him look like a beautiful glowing angel. It outlined the edges of his downy ears, pink and radiant, and followed the full curve of his cheekbone. The sunshine was all Seungkwan’s and Hansol was simply a man in his shadow - graced by his shadow. 

Hansol couldn’t wholly agree to the question; he didn’t make it a conscious effort to find grace in every soul he came across, that would be rather pointless and tiring. Yet it didn’t take energy to find it in the ones close to him; he tried to surround himself with beauty and naturally, the choices he made were in favour of that. He knew what Seungkwan meant with his question and it pained him.

“You’re trying to convince yourself that my compliment was empty, aren’t you?” he questioned Seungkwan. Seungkwan remained silent - the wildlife outside was all Hansol could hear. He was staring intently at Seungkwan, with a slight lean forward in his body. “You shouldn’t have to do that, Seungkwan. I don’t want you to do that.”

A fine line set between Seungkwan’s brows. “If I accept it, it’s false hope.”

He couldn’t be more wrong. Hansol dared to ask, _hope for what?_ Yet he felt as if he’d pried Seungkwan enough already. The only hope he could think of was the same hope that he felt - what they were both reluctant about.

Hansol took a breath and stood up from the bed to make his way to the door. He turned his chin to his shoulder to look at Seungkwan.

“Accept it, Seungkwan.” _You wouldn’t be getting your hopes up. _“I should get back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hansol felt like he’d left Seungkwan speechless. He certainly hadn’t confirmed his feelings, but he’d left behind a generous hint for Seungkwan to ponder over.

As he made his way back to the house to leave, he took his time. He was loitering. He was waiting for Seungkwan to catch up to him. But Seungkwan seemed to have remained behind. Hansol stopped at the fence lining the bottom of the backyard and rested his hands on the old wood. He could turn back; he was still on the other side of the fence. Turn back and kiss him? If Hansol went back and kissed Seungkwan, he could decipher Seungkwan’s feelings. It was surely the most effective way to find out if they were truly reciprocated.

No. Hansol had said enough today. Going back to Seungkwan now would only strain both of their hearts. He opened the gate and swung it open past his hip. He was going to leave out the small side gate door that led out from the garden and onto the road, however, somebody called his name and stopped him.

“Could you help me?” Sojeong’s voice was pinched. Hansol looked behind him to the sunny patio where Sojeong was stretching high at the washing line. He couldn’t see her face behind the clothes, but he could imagine the frustration on her features as she tried to reach the pegs on the highest curve of the line. As he hurried to her, he caught a glimpse of her ankle that was close to knocking over a plant pot beside her feet.

“Hold on,” he muttered and crouched to move the large pottery aside, out of harm's way. The sight of Sojeong’s sandals disappeared as she shuffled back.

“Gosh, I didn’t notice that!” she sighed and gestured to the plant pot. Hansol didn’t say anything as he took her space to reach up and take the shorts from the washing line that she’d been unable to get. He dropped it in the basket that sat on the folding table beside Sojeong and smiled at her when she thanked him.

“You were with Seungkwan, right?” she asked as she resumed the washing line. Hansol watched her. Those shorts he’d touched looked like they might’ve been Seungkwan’s.

“Yeah, I was.”

Sojeong glimpsed behind at Hansol for a second as she threw a summer dress into the basket, landing over the shorts. “Do you know the Lord’s Prayer, Hansol?”

Hansol was taken aback by Sojeong’s out of the blue question. The Lord’s Prayer was something he’d never rehearsed, something he’d never been raised to learn. “No, I don’t know much about Christianity at all, actually.”

“Oh, really? I’ve been going over and over this one line ever since the service this morning and it’s driving me crazy. I usually think nothing of what I’m saying when I’m praying…” Sojeong almost whispered the last part. Hansol kept quiet and waited for her to speak again. It sounded like the housemaid was in the kitchen just behind him, shuffling around.

“_E non ci indurre in tentazione, ma liberaci dal male…_” She paused. “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”

Temptations, temptations... Hansol was haunted by temptations.

The meaning of the line that Sojeong had recited could be interpreted by Hansol with ease, even though he was not religious. He simply wondered: why was it lingering with Sojeong? It seemed as though everybody had temptations, even the religious.

Sojeong was finished with her chore now - the washing line was empty. She picked up the wicker laundry basket with a huff and began to walk back into the house. She stopped at Hansol’s shoulder.

“Sorry I kept you. I was just thinking out loud. Seungkwan didn’t even move his lips during the prayer today, I’ve never seen him do that before.”

From Hansol’s perspective, it sounded like Seungkwan was disconnecting himself from God. Hansol wondered if Sojeong was more irritated or more concerned about that - he didn’t know her well enough to decide. He could only listen to her and feel rather useless.

“Go on, I’ll let you get going,” Sojeong said, flicking her wrist like she was brushing Hansol away. Hansol bowed his head briefly and leaned onto his back foot.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Sojeong,” he said politely and waved as he walked away in the direction of the side gate. Sojeong sent him a smile before she left into the kitchen.

The concern between Seungkwan and his faith was a matter that Hansol shouldn’t investigate unless he was granted - he knew it was a personal matter, none of his business. He couldn’t help but think: was it his fault? When he returned, he considered asking Jisoo about the situation. No, better to not draw attention to it.

It was a significantly warm evening. Hansol found that it usually cooled down once the moonlight was cast on every surface. Tonight’s air had failed to subside. The house was quiet; Jisoo and Mingyu were about to leave with some others to go to the disco. Hansol was offered but he would rather stay in his bedroom tonight.

In the adjoining room, he heard Mingyu making every effort to convince Wonwoo to come along. He could’ve pretended not to listen, but since both his and Wonwoo’s doors were cracked open, it was hard not to take in their conversation. Well - Mingyu’s pleading.

“Hyung… You’re not upset, are you?” Mingyu’s voice softened. Hansol felt so awfully rude to listen. There was a long silence that, even from his bedroom, felt heavy.

At that point, Hansol heard Wonwoo’s door shut. He could no longer hear them, which certainly made him feel less guilty.

In the end, Wonwoo had gotten his way, which was to stay here and get some rest.

Hansol wouldn’t have been able to enjoy himself if he’d gone, anyway. Not when his mind was so fixated on Seungkwan. On his bed, he lay on his stomach, propping himself up with his elbows, to scribble mindlessly in his sketchpad. When his mind was brimming, Hansol found that the most effective way for him to empty it was by sketching in this tiny sketchpad. He would let his hand create whatever it pleased.

The window between his and Jisoo’s beds was open wide - he could hear the night. Earlier, he’d heard the vibrant voices and laughter of Mingyu and Jisoo and friends when they’d left the house. It was quiet now. There was a lamp beside Hansol’s bed that cast a warm glow onto his bare torso and his sketchpad.

If Seungkwan was all that pursued his mind, Seungkwan was all that was on these pages.

Hansol had not memorized Seungkwan’s face because his face was already etched in his memory. The sight of Seungkwan against the brilliant sunshine was what persisted in Hansol’s mind - it was what he drew onto the paper. However, to match Seungkwan’s overwhelming beauty with a dull pencil and Hansol’s overpromised skills was near impossible.

_Keeping this to myself does me no good. Should I tell Wonwoo? He would understand, I’m sure of it. No, I can’t drop any pressure onto him when he seems to be having trouble already, with Mingyu. Whatever that may be._

This outlet of reshaping his swelling feelings into messy, tangled drawings was insufficient at this point. His pencil was dulling but his emotions were not. Rather vexed, he dropped his pencil and rubbed his hand through his hair with a gruff sigh. He stared at Seungkwan on the page. What had he drawn in those eyes of his? It looked like enticement. 

_I want to tell him. I’m going to tell Seungkwan._


	9. For Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see! :) for anyone who has been following this fic, i guess i have some explaining to do... life has been SUPER busy for me (and for all of us!!!) so I've struggled to find the time and the motivation to properly write :/  
i still adore writing this story and i want to finish it SO badly, i have a lot in mind for it! it just might take me a while. i hope you understand and i pray you are all safe and healthy.  
i hope this chapter can be seen as a little gift of joy for you :) it's quite a special chapter. thank you for sticking with this story <3
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3sfWyg0duyDS4qJCKMvLbs?si=eGkApsQVQ_6-cvr6a5_Ukg)  
[moodboard](https://weheartit.com/peachkwan/collections/154152605-)  


Sentimentality was the tint of his sunglasses. One summer, one single season, a few treasured, hot months where Seungkwan read the footnotes of Hansol as he passed by, five foot ten and unceasing. This was all it was. Human life depended on time. Time was like the heavy sand of the beach and Seungkwan knelt down, knees sinking in, taking a fistful. The softness and warmness in his hand was bliss, but brief. It slipped through the gaps in his fingers and it always would, no matter how he tried to cradle each handful, no matter how tight he would hold on. Always left with nothing more than a few grains in the cracks of his hands.

The beach that Seungkwan was familiar with in Jeju was on the south coast, which he often visited in May before summer struck and it would be heaving with people. The sand there was golden, unlike here, where Seungkwan found that the sand was whiter.

How do you repeat lost time? Overlapping, long, thick hours melting, slipping like white sand.

On the cooler days in Italy, (those rare occasions), Seungkwan would think of Jeju. Though it wouldn’t be longing, more so daydreaming. He liked to think about what he would be doing if he was home; he couldn’t remember the last summer he had spent in Jeju. Most of the time, he was here for the entire holiday. There had only been one year, when he was younger, when they had cut the vacation short. Apart from that, Seungkwan liked to daydream about what that beach on the south coast would feel like and look like in the height of summertime. Could the sand get any more golden? And how much more lush and green was the vegetation that spilt down the slopes of the cliff behind? How blue were the waves? Seungkwan thought about it all.

“You’ve not visited the island before, have you?” Seungkwan was spending this afternoon on the shores at Lake Garda. It was only supposed to be a trip with his mother and his sisters, but with Hansol already in their company this morning, he’d been invited by Mother to fill the last space in the back of the car. Why, of course, Seungkwan didn’t oppose Hansol tagging along. As of now, he and Hansol sat together on a cluster of rocks in the shallow beginning of the lake. Hansol had his feet in the water, resting on the rocks submerged beneath those clear ripples.

“No. There are not many places I’ve been.” Hansol had his big hands framed around his cheeks as he rested his chin in the middle, elbows on his kneecaps. He was watching the lake - or at least, that was where his gaze was set.

Seungkwan had not been to New York and Hansol had not been to Jeju-do. Seungkwan didn’t know how Hansol truly lived, since he didn’t have much of an idea about his life in New York, if it was a stark contrast to his life in Jeju or if they shared some similar aspects. He assumed that Hansol felt the same about Jeju-do. There were still so many things to learn about him and Seungkwan still had so many things to share.

“We both live in tourist traps, don’t we?” Seungkwan chuckled quietly, his voice taken away with the soft waves. He clutched the crucifix on his necklace and played with it. “Do you think you’ll stay there forever? In New York? Or do you want to travel the world?” Seungkwan was asking for access to catch a glimpse of Hansol’s future, or what Hansol had in mind for his future. He wanted Hansol to paint a picture of where he would be in the years to come, and Seungkwan could pick up a paintbrush and paint himself right there beside him.

“I don’t think much about the future. But I have thought a lot about Europe since coming here. I think I’d like to see more of Europe.” Hansol was speaking gently - almost quietly. It felt so personal and intimate to Seungkwan. Hansol looked away from the lake and to him. “But where should I settle down...? I don’t know if I ever will settle.”

That was where Seungkwan differed with Hansol.

“You have to settle down at some point, don’t you? I can’t imagine how your life would play out without an end goal like that in mind.” The more Seungkwan dwelled on it, the more he realised how narrow-minded he sounded and it reminded him of how free-spirited Hansol was. Hansol did not focus on the outcome, but rather the process. Seungkwan wanted to be like Hansol.

“You think that far ahead, at our age?” Hansol asked. The way his thick eyebrows twitched upwards made Seungkwan question himself and the way he’d thought ever since he was a child.

“It’s almost a natural expectation, isn’t it? We grow up to learn that what we’re looking for is security and an eternal home. You know… like a wife and kids and a safe job.” Seungkwan hated the way he sounded. Perhaps he had been lying to himself about this - he was beginning to doubt himself ever wanting the words that were coming out of his mouth. He wanted Hansol’s.

“Yeah, you could be right,” Hansol hummed. “But I don’t want that.” He sounded sure of his words, even when he spoke so nonchalantly.

Seungkwan would settle for a future unsettled with Hansol. A beautiful, unfinished painting.

The lake gently washed over the stones, and they darkened in colour once wet. Seungkwan watched the water around Hansol’s ankles and how the sight of his feet became distorted beneath the soft movement, and yet they were still beautiful to Seungkwan. Through the silence, he slipped his own feet into the cool, resting his arms on his knees and looking on at the rugged mountains teeming with green that surrounded the lake far, far in the distance.

Although there were people behind them and to the left or the right, if Seungkwan looked ahead, he and Hansol were here alone with only the fish and the birds. It made Seungkwan so utterly happy. Peaceful.

“Do you remember what I said to you when we were like this? The last time we visited the lake?” Hansol brought up. Seungkwan met his honey eyes. “Have I become that friend for you?” Hansol asked gently.

This was what happened whenever they were alone. The truth revealed itself like a fish’s scales were revealed when the sunlight would strike through the water and hit it’s body perfectly. How the light danced along those scales and made it seem like heaven underwater.

Seungkwan wanted to reveal so much to Hansol.  _ You’ve become more than a good friend.  _ There was a chance here for Seungkwan to finally get it off his chest. Nobody but Hansol could hear him, not even the fish would know what he’d said. But upon hearing his mother and his sisters and their laughter in the distance behind him, it was a reminder that he should not.

He pushed Hansol a smile. Like an apology.

“You have.”

Hansol returned a knowing smile. And then, turned to face the sun, tilting his head back and closing his hazy eyes.

“There’s a breeze today,” he uttered. Seungkwan was still staring at him. Would he be content in simply and silently admiring Hansol, without ever telling him? Maybe it was selfish to tell him, anyway. Because then he would be casting the burden that only he carried now, onto Hansol too - something he did not deserve to carry. But to keep it to himself could be deemed selfish too, in a way… 

“Hansol.”

“Hm?” Hansol did not open his eyes nor move his head.  _ I can’t say it if you aren’t looking at me. _

“Look at me.”

Hansol slowly tilted his head to fall into Seungkwan’s gaze. Seungkwan’s eyes flitted down to his lips where they were resting in a subtle closed smile. He was staring at Seungkwan like he was waiting for it. Seungkwan realised that having Hansol look at him only made it harder to say.

“Your face isn’t burnt,” he mumbled.

Hansol hesitated.

“No, I remembered sunscreen today.” He looked away. Always nonchalant Hansol. Sedate and subdued Hansol. Was he oblivious or did he choose not to let it get to him? Hansol laughed now. “What’s got you splashing your feet like that?” The amused tone in his voice put Seungkwan at ease.

“Huh?” Seungkwan hadn’t realised he’d been kicking his feet in the water like a toddler.

Hansol carried on laughing. “Is this like a dog-wagging-it’s-tail kinda thing? Are you that happy to be beside me?” he joked with a wholesome grin.  _ You wouldn’t be wrong, Hansol. _

A rather embarrassed Seungkwan huffed out a bashful laugh with his head dipped, and shoved Hansol’s body with his hands. His skin was burning hot.

“I’m leaving!” Seungkwan announced through his genuine smile and laughter as he stood up. He looked back at Hansol who climbed back onto the rock, looking over his shoulder at Seungkwan who walked away.

Seungkwan left him there on the rocks to go back to his mother who sat cross-legged on a towel laid out over the small, hot pebbles. Her eyes hid behind her sunglasses and a shade cast over her face from the wide straw hat that sat gracefully upon her head.

“Where did they go?” he asked, in reference to his sisters.

“You know your sisters: can’t even go to the bathroom alone,” she answered in that soft, motherly tone. Seungkwan lay down on the space that was left on the towel, resting his head in his mother’s lap and staring at the blue stretch of empty sky. His mother spoke again when Seungkwan got comfortable, and she dropped her hands in his hair. It made his eyes fall heavy.

“How’s Hansol?”

Seungkwan wondered what his mother saw of him and Hansol. If what she had seen, the backs of two boys talking on the rocks, and thought anything of it. If she noticed Seungkwan’s lingering gaze as he’d struggled to look away from Hansol, and Seungkwan shoving Hansol in the midst of his teasing and laughter.

“He’s perfectly fine. He always is,” Seungkwan simply replied. His eyes were almost closed now, with the soothing way that his mother was running her fingers through his hair - what a mother was best at.

“I wonder,” she drawled, “does he have a girl back home?”

Seungkwan’s eyes were open again. “What kind of question is that, mother? I don’t think he does,” he muttered and fidgeted with his fingers on his stomach.

His mother let out sweet laughter. “He’s perfectly suited for one! I was curious, is all. I thought you would know.” She poked Seungkwan’s cheek with her index finger.

“I’ve never thought to ask him…”

“Oh, look at your complexion!” Seungkwan’s mother cradled his cheeks upside down, her fingertips underneath either side of his jaw to tilt his head up slightly. “You put on your sunscreen, didn’t you?”

“I never forget to!” Seungkwan raised his voice, not in a harsh way, but because he knew that the red in his face was most certainly not from the sun. His mother bringing up the idea of Hansol ever having a girl made Seungkwan involuntarily think of him sleeping with her - the girlfriend he had just made up in his mind - Hansol’s body braced over her body. That was what brought colour to his cheeks.

“No, I know you don’t. Because you’re good. My good boy!” Mother purred as she pinched Seungkwan’s cheeks.

When his sisters had returned, once Sojeong stopped by to plant a kiss on Seungkwan’s shoulder, the both of them ran for the lake. It was one of the most wholesome sights for Seungkwan. The wide grins on the faces of his sisters as they splashed in the water with Hansol and his gentle, brotherly jesting with them. How careful he was when he kicked the water back at Sojeong, like a brother would be cautious of his words if he was arguing with his sister because really, his sister was the woman he would last want to hurt. And the way that Jinseol did not hold back, which was something that Seungkwan noticed she did with any other male—hold back.

Seungkwan was watching Hansol become a part of the family.

As sweet and as it made Seungkwan feel, there was a lingering, poignant whisper. One that told him  _ this won’t last forever _ . Through frustration, he could argue back  _ oh, but what does last forever?! _ Not many things. But there were things that had the strength to prosper, like this pearlescent lake, or your memories of times that somebody made your heart smile or you made their heart smile, the kindness and light that you bring forth into this world, or your prayers, or the words you say to somebody that they decide to revisit in their mind just to remember your voice.

But this, Hansol’s place in this family, was not going to last. No matter if it made Seungkwan’s heart smile, no matter if Seungkwan prayed on it. Frankly, he was struggling to let that settle with him. He wondered if Hansol felt the same. Or had he even realised how much it meant to Seungkwan that he was doing this?

Seungkwan wanted to sit beside Hansol on the car ride back. It was a few hours after noon, so it could be guaranteed that Seungkwan wouldn’t experience a repeat of the last time they visited Lake Garda - or left - when Hansol’s heavy head rested perfectly on his shoulder as it was sheer tiredness that took him out. Still, that didn’t matter because all Seungkwan needed was to be beside him, asleep on his shoulder or not.

It was times like these, innocently sharing the space in the car beside Hansol, when Seungkwan regretted ever letting go of his hand. But what guilt was worse? The guilt of giving into teenage desire, or the guilt of passing the chance away? Seungkwan’s head was hurting - he blamed it on the sunshine.

Turning his head right, Seungkwan saw that Hansol was looking out of the window that he was resting against. Hansol’s eyes shifted from the window to Seungkwan. A closed smile and his light brown eyes that said all. When the light hit his iris and revealed the truth - like the scales of the fish. It was going to be one of Seungkwan’s many residuals.

When his mother stopped outside of the farmhouse for Hansol to get out, on impulse, Seungkwan told his mother to drive on, after closing the car door. He’d had to step out of the car anyway, to let Hansol pass through.

“Can’t get enough of me?” Hansol teased with that classic grin, as they were left in the dust of the car. He shoved Seungkwan and Seungkwan shoved back harder.  _ Can’t get enough of me? _ was something that you’d ‘ask’ to somebody who you hoped truly couldn’t get enough of you. Or at least, that was always what Seungkwan thought…

It quickly became apparent, once Seungkwan was in the house, that they were the only ones here. When they stood in the garden, Seungkwan asked if Hansol knew where the others had gone.

“Venice. We were going there today,” he said without even blinking and walked past Seungkwan to swing the refrigerator door open and take a cola bottle, popping the lid off with his thumb. Seungkwan threw his eyebrows up as he watched Hansol tilt his head back and gulp down his drink. Completely unbothered.

“You were supposed to be going to Venice today?” Seungkwan repeated him.

Hansol nodded and tapped his bottle. “Mm. But the lake came up,” he explained innocently. Even the look on his face right now made Seungkwan feel like he was wrong for acting so shocked at Hansol's decision. Like Hansol didn’t realise himself the entire intent behind his decision.

“Hansol… You didn’t have to miss out on Venice to come to the lake with us. You’ve already been to the lake. You’ve never been to Venice!” Seungkwan picked up the lid from the bottle, that Hansol had put aside on the counter, and fidgeted with it. Sometimes, his mind didn’t match entirely with Hansol’s and, despite how empathetic Seungkwan was, he struggled to grasp some of Hansol’s thoughts. But that was only what intrigued him.

“I know,” Hansol said after taking another swig. He placed the bottle on the counter and turned to Seungkwan to drop his big hands on top of Seungkwan’s shoulders, the heavy force pushing him down slightly. Seungkwan simply stared up at Hansol’s quick smile. “But who do you think I would rather be with?” He lifted his brows up playfully. “ _ Hm _ ?”

Seungkwan didn’t speak. It was not only by what Hansol had said, but it was the idea of them being completely alone and free of disturbances right now - it elevated Hansol’s words and his gaze and the weight of his hands. It was what made the tempo of Seungkwan’s heart skyrocket.

“You’d really rather be with me?”

“Yes, and you know that.” Hansol squeezed his hands on Seungkwan’s shoulders before letting go and briefly tapping his knuckles off Seungkwan’s chest on the way. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not aware.”

_ What do you mean, Hansol...? _

Just like how he had let go of Hansol’s hand, Seungkwan turned back into the kitchen to cut the conversation short. His methods were to protect himself. Protect them both.

“You thirsty?” he asked, taking two glasses from the cabinet. The sound of Hansol’s defeated sigh from just outside the door made Seungkwan hate himself.  _ I’m so sorry… _

“I have a drink, Seungkwan,” he chuckled shortly. Seungkwan’s face heated up. He’d lost all composure.

“Oh yeah…” he muttered low into his chest and then closed the cabinet after putting away the other glass that he’d intended for Hansol, if he’d not been so flustered. Thankfully, Hansol was now standing against the doorframe and looking out onto the backyard, so he was unable to witness the pink hue in Seungkwan's cheeks as he turned to twist on the tap and fill his glass.

Discreetly, he splashed some water onto his face.

“Seungkwan.”

He whipped his head up from the sink and leaned back to look at the back of Hansol. “ _ Hm _ ?”

“Let’s see a movie later.”

Hansol would oftentimes be very straightforward with his tone. His always unforeseen confidence would throw Seungkwan off. He could tell, Hansol was the type to ask  _ why bother dancing around the subject? _

All Seungkwan did to Hansol was dance around the subject- no, it was more like: Seungkwan would  _ sail _ an entire  _ ocean _ around the subject.

Nevertheless, he agreed to see a movie with Hansol. Of course. It was something they had not done together. Plus, after the night would be over, Seungkwan could lay in his bed and go over and over everything that had happened to keep it close to him. For his own private satisfaction, he could twist it all to seem as though it had been a date. Then, in his dreams tonight, perhaps he would be there again at the movies with Hansol and he could perform all of his painted thoughts to stretch his daydreams farther. In a completely non-delusional fashion.

_ What is wrong with me?  _ he thought to himself as he shook his head. Hansol asked why he was shaking his head. Did he not want to go? No! He wanted to go! He wanted nothing more!

“What’s with the head shake, then?”

_ You never stop testing me, do you? _

“There’s a fruit fly buzzing around. Mingyu should change that fruit bowl,” Seungkwan lied. What was he saying? Why couldn’t he have said a regular fly? The fruit was clearly not rotting!

Hansol snickered quietly to himself. Seungkwan wanted to pour this glass of water over his own hot head.

After making a fool of himself, a cool shower helped to soothe Seungkwan when he returned home. Hansol told him that they could meet after dinner, since both households ate dinner at a relatively similar time. He was to meet Hansol at the fountain in town.

Seungkwan had never thought so much about that old fountain until today.

“You haven’t been to that movie theatre in a long time,” said his mother who was darting around the kitchen to help Greta prepare the food. Seungkwan was leaning over the counter and watching, but not really watching. His mind was buzzing.

“I haven’t had anybody to go with in a long time,” he copied his mother under his breath, and reached over to take a mandarin slice from the pile that Greta had created from the orchard. He loved the way they would burst in his mouth with lively flavour.

His mother clicked her tongue. “Nonsense.” Seungkwan knew she was right. He was always invited by his friends here to go out and visit the movies or the bar or the lake. It was the same with his sisters. Perhaps what he’d meant to say was, _ I haven’t had anybody that I’ve been this thrilled to go with in a long time. _

Seungkwan was restless at dinner. They were eating indoors this evening for no particular reason other than that was his mother’s choice. It was a very open dining room, with a tall archway that granted a view of the living room, and large windows that were kept open to welcome the warm summer breeze inside.

There was not a problem with the food, yet Seungkwan found himself moving it around his plate and hardly having his fork in his mouth. Was he nervous? It felt stupid to feel his stomach twist when he knew it was only Hansol. It was only the movies.

“I was thinking we could have bulgogi tomorrow with Hansol,” his mother spoke up. “Does he like beef?”

Seungkwan shrugged. “Probably.”

“Or we can do pork?”

“Hansol will eat anything. Don’t worry.” It was rare that Seungkwan’s family cooked Korean dishes here in Italy, but Seungkwan enjoyed it when his mother did. He wondered if Hansol would enjoy it too.

“Unlike you,” Jinseol brought up. “Why are you being fussy today? Eat up!” She tapped on the table in front of Seungkwan’s plate.

Seungkwan scowled at his sister and took a large mouthful. “I’m not being fussy!”

  
  


“Do you like bulgogi?” was the first thing he said to Hansol when he arrived at the fountain. He asked in an abrupt fashion, storming up to Hansol with that and only that on his mind. His determined face had probably frightened Hansol a little bit.

Hansol answered whilst he briefly turned his back on Seungkwan, to put out his cigarette on the stone edge of the fountain. “Bulgogi? I like it, yeah.” He sat down and looked up at Seungkwan, as if inviting Seungkwan to sit beside him. Seungkwan did not budge. Instead, he watched Hansol twist his torso to face the water, and flick the dead cigarette into it.

“Hey!” Seungkwan yapped and kicked Hansol’s shin. He was met with Hansol’s gummy smile. “That’s so bad, Hansol,” he grumbled and scrunched his face.

Hansol only laughed at him. “Would it really make a difference with all those dirty coins?”

He had a point. Defeated, Seungkwan pouted and shrugged his shoulders. He brushed the spot next to Hansol before sitting down.

Hansol had changed clothes into something more fitting for the evening - it was a relief to know that Seungkwan hadn’t overdressed. And was Hansol wearing cologne? Or was that the scent of the flower stand closeby?

Tonight was close to a dream.

There was an empty space of time between arriving in town and the time at which the movie commenced, so Seungkwan wanted to lead Hansol into the bookstore.

He found that one of the most intimate acts a person could do for another was to share a chosen book. 

The book that Seungkwan searched for was one that his mother actually had her own copy of back home. Jeju home, that was.  _ La Vita Nuova _ . Truly, a book sacred to youth. Growing up with a mother who read and wrote meant that Seungkwan was always surrounded by such rich art.

_ Ecce deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur mihi. _ Here is a deity stronger than I; who, coming, shall rule over me.

Those were words from the book that echoed what Seungkwan had felt when he set his eyes upon Hansol, just like Beatrice appeared to Alighieri.

“It gives me a headache in some parts, but it’s a fairly short read,” he told Hansol, holding the book to his chest. There were so many quotes and lines that Seungkwan wanted to highlight for Hansol. He hoped for Hansol to do the same, as he read, so that Seungkwan could go over and over the phrase that Hansol seemed to enjoy and overthink why he enjoyed it... 

When they reached the movie theatre, Hansol stopped outside to look up at the glowing marquee. It was a declining building, the local cinema, yet Seungkwan always took a liking to the pretty lights they used to mask its age. Right now, he admired the way they made Hansol’s skin glow.

“You like the sound of any of those?” Hansol tilted his head down to Seungkwan who had been staring at the light reflecting against his cheekbone the whole time.

“Uhm.” His eyes shot up to the marquee and then back to Hansol. “You pick,” he said with a smile on his lips after pretending he knew what movies were displayed.

It was entertaining for Seungkwan to watch Hansol insist on practising his Italian with the lady who would provide them with the tickets. Frankly, he did not care about the movie Hansol chose. What was to be projected onto the large screen in front of them was not what mattered to Seungkwan. It was who he sat beside. This was an excuse to share more uninterrupted time with Hansol.

As entertaining as it was, Seungkwan’s attention drifted away from Hansol ordering the tickets, and to the line beside them. There was a couple there, queuing up for the same reason. Seungkwan’s eyes dropped to their hands locked and their bodies pressed together — it was like they couldn’t survive being apart from one another. The young woman gazed up so fondly to her boyfriend with their faces close as they waited.

Seungkwan was aware that he was staring, but his envy wouldn’t let him look away. How they could so proudly display their love in front of everybody lining up for tickets. He envied them greatly.

“Got ‘em!”

Without any prior warning, Seungkwan was faced with Hansol’s wide grin and two tickets between his index and middle finger. The sheer pride on his face was enough to make Seungkwan’s heart melt. He thanked Hansol and plucked a ticket from his loose grip.

“Aren’t you proud of me?” Hansol was playing now.

“Hmm, should I be? That was easy.” Seungkwan was playing back. Hansol said nothing to retort back, though Seungkwan heard his quiet scoff through a smirk.

As they were walking down the silent corridor, chins up as they searched for their screening room, Seungkwan felt the weight of Hansol’s arm wrap around his shoulder. He tried to think nothing of it. Just like how he tried to think nothing of Hansol’s palm rested on the curve of his chest too, and when he patted his chest to signal that he had found the screening room.

“Here.”

His arm left Seungkwan’s shoulders before they entered the room.

The movie was nothing special - some sort of action movie - but it was enough to captivate Hansol and mildly entertain Seungkwan. Even though his eyes were ahead, watching the rapid gunfire through SFX explosions and unimaginable stunts, his mind was elsewhere. As he sat beside Hansol, the couple from earlier crossed his mind. It brought him to wonder what this would be like if, in his stead, was a female friend of Hansol’s interest. How different would Hansol behave? Would he spread his legs wider until his knee could touch hers? Would he place the point of his elbow on the armrest to meet hers halfway? Or would he take the plunge and reach straight for her soft hand to meticulously slip his fingers between hers? All whilst never looking away from the movie, or would he purposely send a smile her way?

Tonight, Seungkwan wanted to be her.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie, Hansol left his seat without forewarning. Seungkwan watched his figure politely slip past the other people and descend down the staircase. He stood still at the bottom for a quick moment, his face catching the light from the projector, flickering, shadows moving along his face and light making his eyes glisten. Those shiny eyes were looking back at Seungkwan. Before he left.

Seungkwan leaned back in his seat, assuming that it was the bathroom that Hansol had gone to. Strangely, he couldn’t concentrate on the movie until Hansol came back.

It was towards the end of the movie that Seungkwan’s attention was completely pulled away from it. But not because it was falling flat. No. It was because Hansol’s hand was now resting over Seungkwan’s on the armrest that they shared. He was held captive under Hansol’s warm palm. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to.

Buzzing around Seungkwan’s mind was the thought that Hansol had perhaps not noticed what he’d done. That he was so engrossed in the finale of this movie that not even the feeling of Seungkwan’s smaller hand under his had registered…

That idea could be quickly dismissed when he felt the dreamy sensation of Hansol stroking his thumb across the back of his hand. Truly, Seungkwan was nothing but a heavy, beating heart right now. 

Despite the two of them having shared innocent moments of skin on skin before, this felt different to Seungkwan. Shrouded in the warm darkness of the cinema where Seungkwan could feel Hansol’s presence beside him, but did not have to look at him. Where he could listen to Hansol’s breathing, even through the audio of the movie. They were surrounded and yet nobody around could notice. It was secret and close, in a room full of strangers.

And so, Seungkwan was not going to recoil this time.

He kept his hand still underneath Hansol’s, who continued to ever so gently move his thumb in such a soothing manner to Seungkwan. Keeping his eyes ahead (because if he looked at Hansol right now, he would stop breathing), he could feel Hansol’s gaze set on him for a second or two. Seungkwan bit down on his bottom lip, perhaps out of nerves, or how much he was trying to focus on the movie.

This had to be a dream.

Hansol’s gesture was not spoken of afterwards. When the brighter lighting returned in the room, Hansol removed his hand and stood up to stretch.

The night was still young and to Seungkwan’s joy, Hansol said he wanted to spend longer with him. Sometimes, Seungkwan would experience such an overwhelming happiness that it would feel like a fire within him, heating up his heart that would beat faster, and he would find his lips smiling slightly even when nothing had happened to make him smile. He was just walking beside Hansol, through the Italian streets, under the stars.

He was taking Hansol to a bar that he had been to a few times with his friends, where he’d usually watch them smoke their cigarettes and drink their beer.

“You don’t drink, do you?” Hansol decided to ask after he took the first sip from his beer, proceeding to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Seungkwan’s eyes were on his lips and how they glistened, wet and smiling.

“Nope. And neither should you!” he scolded Hansol, though it was hard to be taken seriously when he did so with a pout on his lips. It only made Hansol smile wider.

“Hey,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I’m legal here.” There was a bright look on his face. That was the only way Seungkwan could describe it: bright. Like the joy Hansol had felt today with Seungkwan was all shown on his features right now, shining through his eyes and his smile and his skin, and reflecting onto Seungkwan, making him feel it all too.

“Want some?” Hansol asked, bringing Seungkwan back into the moment. Seungkwan didn't hesitate to shake his head, even when Hansol was tempting him with such a delicious grin.

“If my mother wouldn’t notice, my sisters definitely would.” Sojeong especially - she would smell it on Seungkwan before he even stepped into the house. Then again, she would also be the sister to promise about keeping it solely between the two of them.

“Not even a tiny sip?” Hansol was tilting his head now, with the glass in his hand and swirling it gently to make the liquid move in a strangely hypnotising way against the inside of the glass. It caught the warm lights, casting a golden glimmer into the drink. Seungkwan almost caved in. 

“Not even a sip.” He angled his chin up and folded his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair and staring proudly at Hansol.

Nobody could lead Seungkwan into temptation quite like Hansol could. Hansol had this intense power over him that made it hard for Seungkwan to resist. He watched Hansol take a big sip from the tall, straight glass, his throat bobbing with each gulp.

As soon as he placed it back down on the table, Seungkwan reached across and snatched it.

“Just a sip,” he said and grinned against the rim of the glass before steadily tipping it back.

Hansol chimed. “There we go!”

  
  


A sip had turned into six or seven. Seungkwan didn’t feel different at all, only a little more light on his feet when they were walking out of town, back home.

“You promise my breath doesn’t give it away?” Seungkwan repeated and stopped when they were on the small bridge to let Hansol check his breath again. He opened his mouth and let Hansol lean in. He could feel his breath close to him. Hansol’s gaze was focused somewhere on the lower half of Seungkwan’s face. Seungkwan’s gaze was set on Hansol’s downcast eyelashes. So pretty.

“Oh, yeah. Smells really bad!” Hansol faked a grimace and spun around to start walking away smugly. Seungkwan knew he was joking around, and called after him, running to catch up and leaping onto his back. Hansol giggled and stumbled forward. His hands naturally hooked under Seungkwan’s legs to carry him on his back.

In the midst of their laughter, Hansol edged closer to the side of the bridge, pretending to prepare to throw Seungkwan over the edge. Seungkwan hit his fists against the boy’s chest and kicked his legs.

“No! No, put me down!” he pleaded through his huge, unwavering smile. After more frantic begging and playing around, that made a few passerby’s look across to them in slight concern, Hansol eventually let Seungkwan down onto the ground again.

Quite naturally, Seungkwan ended up with his hand resting against Hansol’s chest, grinning up at him. He wanted to stay like that, admiring the warmth of Hansol’s chest under his palm, but Hansol cleared his throat and stepped backwards until Seungkwan’s hand was forced to drop. Hansol lifted his own hand to tap Seungkwan’s chest with his knuckles.

“Hey, let’s stop here for a little longer.”

Seungkwan watched Hansol turn his back to walk up to the thick, stone balustrade, leaning forward and folding his forearms on the surface. There was something sentimental about what Seungkwan was seeing in front of him: Hansol's relaxed figure against the sunset and looking over the starry river, pale moonlight in his hair - Seungkwan knew that he was going to want to remember this.

After a breath, he joined Hansol to the side of the bridge, letting his arms hang over the edge but placing them close enough so that the outside of his left arm was always touching Hansol’s right elbow.

The moonlight looked alive tonight, on the surface of the water. Seungkwan simply enjoyed the warmth of Hansol beside him. He was unusually quiet and still. Seungkwan could feel something different with him.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

Seungkwan turned his head away from the view to set his eyes on Hansol. His eyes were ahead. ‘This’ was rather not only how they were now, but this and their complete summer together - Seungkwan knew that was what Hansol meant by ‘this’.

“Hey, what’s got you saying such cliche things?” he perked up, sparking a playful smile. A smile of intrigue and, in the slightest, nerves.

Hansol returned his gaze. “Cliche? In what way?” Now that he was looking back at him, Seungkwan was more aware of an anxious pang in his chest.

“Just, people say that a lot in movies.” He shrugged. “And in the end, they never end up ‘staying like this forever’,” Seungkwan explained as his smile lessened. He was playing with his hands that were still hanging over the bridge, so Hansol couldn’t see just how nervous he was.

Hansol blinked, lashes fluttering. “Well, this isn’t a movie, is it? Maybe we will stay like this.”

Seungkwan snorted. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

“I know…” Hansol was silent after those two quiet words, as he broke their stare, going back to watching the water. Seungkwan could tell by the way that his lips were parted, that he had more to say. He was just hesitating.

“That’s why it hurts,” he said eventually.

“What?” Seungkwan urged gently, almost a whisper. He was unsure if Hansol was aware of such a buildup that he was creating with his cautious speech, but it was making Seungkwan’s chest ache at the pace and force his heart was hitting it.

“You know.” Hansol waited for a beat and then continued, “I can’t carry on knowing that this isn’t forever and never act on it whilst it’s at least  _ for now _ .” He took a fragile breath. “At least for now, this feels like forever. But I know that really, this is temporary, and it’s slipping away. I need to do  _ something  _ before it’s gone.” He looked at Seungkwan with absolutely no guard on his face, the sincere look in his eyes was so real and it hit Seungkwan like it had all dawned upon him in this moment. “Do you know what I mean?” Oh, Seungkwan knew perfectly what this all meant. Hansol was finally putting all of his actions up until now, into words - he was talking about it. Seungkwan would say it was a heart to heart, but so far, he hadn’t uttered a word to share his heart. It was overwhelming, to say the least - so overwhelming that Seungkwan couldn’t reply. His heart was swollen in his throat, hindering his ability to speak and share it.

Hansol went on to say, “I just need to know, Seungkwan. Give me a solid sign.”

Seungkwan was dizzy. He’d never imagined a conversation such as his to ever occur between them and now that it was, he was convinced it was a dream. It had to be. Any second now, he was going to wake up. He waited for a second, and then two, three. Nope. Hansol was still staring at him intently, awaiting a reply.

He had to let Hansol know - he was going to. Yet if he tried to speak, he knew that nothing would come out. Instead, he compromised. Refusing to look away from Hansol’s eyes, Seungkwan brought his hands between them, and dropped them on his, squeezing, lifting their hands to rest over his heart, allowing Hansol to feel how much it was crying out for his attention. He smiled up at the boy and hoped that he understood.  _ This is your sign, Hansol. _

To Seungkwan’s joy, Hansol mirrored his smile and let out a short exhale. “You mean a lot to me,” he said without any shakiness in his voice. It was confident. It made Seungkwan’s smile expand into a grin and then a laugh. Of relief, of triumph, of comfort.

There was a tall street lamp beside them and it’s warm glow caught Hansol’s eyes. The light was in his eyes again, making his face look warm. Tonight was the happiest Seungkwan had ever been. And it was real.

On their way home, few words were spoken between them. Seungkwan was too busy within his own mind, trying to comprehend what had just happened, what Hansol had said. It was in the air now. The light had revealed the truth.

After their most ungraceful parting, Seungkwan felt different now, left with this matter following him around, with so much to address.

Was Seungkwan expected to sleep now? It felt impossible. His mind was torn between regret and relief and he struggled to settle with either one. He wondered if Hansol felt the same way right now. If he was lying on his back after kicking the bedsheets off his restless legs and listening to the night, thinking about Seungkwan, replaying the scene over, and over, and over...

Reaching across to his bedside table, Seungkwan lifted his wristwatch to show the face. The glass caught the moonlight behind his shoulder - he tilted it to read the time. It was just past midnight. Maybe Hansol and the others were still awake, he told himself.

For a few minutes, Seungkwan sat on the edge of his bed with his fidgety hands in his lap, contemplating, gnawing on his bottom lip. Until he made the decision to leave his room and slip downstairs. His bare feet tapped on the patterned marble floor as he walked - the jarring coldness on the soles of his feet was enough to energise him into doing this.

The vestibule was silent and dim. Seungkwan stood and stared at the telephone on the small table. The house was asleep; there was nobody downstairs. He picked up the phone and called Mingyu’s residence.

Waiting, waiting…

Somebody picked up.

“Hansol?”

“No. Wonwoo.” Wonwoo’s blunt tone came through the other end. Seungkwan had come to learn that (most of the time), Wonwoo did not intend to come across so cold.

Seungkwan shifted his balance to his left foot. “Oh. Hey, Wonwoo. How are you?” He wouldn’t mind catching up with Wonwoo.

“I’m fine. Do you want Hansol? I can fetch him.” Either Wonwoo was not up for making conversation with Seungkwan, or he sensed that Hansol was who Seungkwan was after. Seungkwan didn’t know which one he preferred.

“Is he asleep? I don’t want to wake him up.” It could be selfish, but if Hansol was asleep, Seungkwan almost wanted to wake him up, just so they could talk.

“No, he’s in the living room with everyone else. I’ll get him.” When Wonwoo put the phone down, Seungkwan could hear the distant conversation of Mingyu and the others from what he guessed was the living room. They sounded wide awake. He tried to work out what they were talking about until he was interrupted-

“Seungkwan.”  _ Hansol _ . “Is something wrong?” Hansol’s voice always felt like home - Seungkwan was relieved to hear it.

“No, I’m okay… I can’t sleep,” he muttered, looking down at his feet as he shuffled them.

“Ah, I see.” Seungkwan could practically hear Hansol’s wide grin. Was he amused? Did he know why Seungkwan couldn’t sleep? 

“What… What are you guys doing?” Why was Seungkwan struggling to make conversation now? He bit down on his bottom lip harshly.

“Mingyu insisted we watch an American movie.”

“Another movie?”

“Yeah. It’s been a good day for me. Actually,” Hansol paused, “one of the best days I’ve ever had.” That made Seungkwan’s heart flutter. He was delighted to know that they both held today so close to their hearts.

Hansol paused again. Longer this time.

“Come over.”

“What? It’s late.”

“It’s not late! Come on,” Hansol dragged out the end of his sentence like a child would, or a clingy girlfriend. It made Seungkwan snicker under his breath.

“I’ll get in trouble, Hansol.” It was a shame to admit, but it was true.

Hansol completely disregarded what Seungkwan had just said with, “come to the garden.”

He hung up. Seungkwan was left with the bleak note of the phone that didn’t end until he put it back down. That clever idiot had given him no choice but to go visit him.

Seungkwan almost always left the house at night only after his mother’s permission. This felt like an incredible crime. After returning to his bedroom and putting on a fresh shirt over his loose shorts, he tied his Converse shoes and went downstairs again. This time, it felt like every noise he made was enough to wake somebody up. He cringed at every one of his footsteps.

When he reached the front door and unlocked it, he thought he was free until-

“Where are you going?” 

Seungkwan whipped his head over his shoulder. Greta stood in the doorway of the kitchen with a very puzzled look on her face. Seungkwan stared at her with wide eyes as he tried to think of how he could reply to her. He didn’t want to lie, plus, what type of lie would ever get him off the hook in this scenario?

“I was going to see Mingyu. I left something at his place,” he spluttered, sounding insanely guilty. Seungkwan couldn’t lie for shit.

The old lady didn’t seem convinced. “Were you going to see Mingyu or were you going to see the American boy? The smiley one,” she questioned. Seungkwan noticed the curve of her lips. In a second of relief, it made him smile back at her.

“He’ll also be there, yes.”

Greta waved her hand to the door, looking at it and then back at Seungkwan. “Go on. I’m not stopping you,” she said casually. Seungkwan opened the door. “But if you’re going there, stay there. I won’t be awake to unlock the door for you later on,” Greta added in.

“She’ll notice I’ve been gone, though,” Seungkwan said, referring to his mother.

Greta merely shrugged. It made Seungkwan indecisive - he stepped one foot back inside.

“Stop worrying so much about what your mother has to say. Go!” she urged. Greta was right. Seungkwan always had the habit of making decisions with his mother’s reaction in mind. It could be tiring at times. He wanted to do something for himself, for once. As a teenager.

So he waved goodbye to Greta.

When he arrived at the house, he did as Hansol told, and walked past the living room - where he could hear an action and the boys as they talked over it - and went straight for the back door that was open. There, he spotted Hansol’s bare feet hanging out of the hammock. Seungkwan smiled to himself as he approached, noticing that Hansol’s eyes were closed, and he decided to frighten him by abruptly shaking the hammock.

It didn’t frighten Hansol at all.

“You were supposed to get a shock.” Seungkwan pouted, watching Hansol calmly sit up and move along to make room. Seungkwan sat beside him and let the hammock swing.

“You’re not scary enough,” Hansol spoke nonchalantly but with a smirk like he was proud that Seungkwan had failed to shock him.

“I can be scary.”

Hansol raised his brows.

“I can!” Seungkwan insisted.

“Not even a mouse would find you frightening.”

“Yeah, I’d find the mouse frightening…” Seungkwan mumbled, earning a chuckle from Hansol as he hit his side against his. The backyard was dark tonight, with none of the lights left on. Seungkwan liked it. Everything was black and blue under the moon. He felt hidden with Hansol.

“Why are you out here?”

“It’s nice out here. And the movie was giving me a headache. Hard to focus too with Mingyu and Jisoo commentating on it.”

Seungkwan snorted. “I bet Wonwoo loves that.”

“I think he’s falling asleep,” Hansol bounced back with the same amused tone. Seungkwan laughed.

Through the silence, Hansol laid down in the hammock again, grabbing Seungkwan’s waist and bringing his body with him.

“Hansol-”

“We’re alone,” Hansol whispered close to Seungkwan’s ear. His head was resting on Hansol’s chest.

“What if someone comes out-”

Hansol’s hand went over Seungkwan’s mouth. Seungkwan was desperate to kiss his palm.

“Do you ever stop worrying? It’s alright.” Hansol’s large hand rubbing soothing patterns against Seungkwan’s back was enough to make his eyes droop. Never did he expect that he would be laying across Hansol’s body in the hammock like this, listening to his heartbeat close to his ear, their legs tangled together. Surreal.

“Say that again,” he uttered quietly. “Please.”

Hansol hesitated. “It’s alright.”

Seungkwan couldn't understand why those two words, especially coming from Hansol, were so relieving. It was the reassurance of this situation. That this was okay. It was allowed. Hansol offered Seungkwan safety and consolation like no other being ever had. He couldn’t be more grateful for him, the gratitude made his heart swell.

Slowly, he lifted his head from Hansol’s warm chest, to look at his face. Their faces were close. Close enough for Seungkwan to count the faint freckles on Hansol’s cheekbones. He had never noticed them until now.

“Again.” Seungkwan wanted Hansol’s words in his own mouth. Hansol cast a brilliant grin on him and cupped Seungkwan’s cheek with his right hand to lift his face up. He was guided by Hansol to look into his eyes, and captivated, Seungkwan was unable to look anywhere else. Truly, it felt impossible. Especially when that comforting light rippled through Hansol’s iris when he said those two beautiful words again.

“It’s alright, Seungkwan.”

This time, Seungkwan managed to drop his gaze to Hansol’s mouth as he said the words in such a low voice, so soft that not even the fireflies closeby could’ve heard. Only Seungkwan. And his warm breath, touching Seungkwan’s lips and making the tiny space between their faces hot.

_ It’s alright, Seungkwan. This is alright. We are alright.  _ Those were the only words in his mind when Seungkwan inched even closer, his palm spread against the swell of Hansol’s chest. He could feel his heartbeat - it was quick, thumping against Seungkwan’s hand and telling him that he was not the only one who was hazy with desire right now. He could feel his own heartbeat in his throat once again. He swallowed hard and wet his lips.

Those words, they were still fresh on Hansol’s lips and his tongue. Seungkwan wanted them so badly on his own.

He took them.

Without a speck of doubt or fear or worry in his mind, Seungkwan leaned in that final inch to press his lips against Hansol’s. He kept his eyes closed and listened to Hansol’s deep inhale through his nose like he was breathing into the kiss. His grip on Seungkwan’s cheek was firmer, keeping him in place, on his lips, for the most heavenly handful of seconds in his life.

Seungkwan let out a puff of air when their lips parted, but remained close. He was met with a golden look in Hansol’s eyes. They lit up when he smiled and dropped his hand to Seungkwan’s lips to brush his thumb against them, and parted his own lips to speak.

“So, that’s what you taste like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took forever to finish but VOILA! (i haven't proof read this one so i'm sorry about anything out of place)  
kinda off topic but would anyone be interested in jojo's bizarre adventure content too...?


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